Two Carriages Passing: Rutherford glared towards Maeve as she untangled his feet from the rosary. The Lady Kirkpatrick rolling her eyes at the man but her look softened as the young woman posed a question in her direction. There was a slight nod from the senior among the group. "Of course. I believe he would have wanted you to have them," Sally said as she stood there, her eyes going to the rosary. She knew it was also a weapon, she paid for the fuddling fathers training and others that had attended there in Rome. She might not have their skills but she knew their weapons well. It didn't matter, it was a tie to the man and apparently Maeve felt something akin to family with him. It was alright with her, sure he had other family and they would have to be notified but Maeve was a far stronger follower of god than they were.

"On the condition they pass to your daughter when her training is complete," she added. It was a small concession and a way for her to explain to the mans family why they were not being given such a piece. This way they would go to the one he last helped protect before training. At least that was how she would present it.

Rutherford grumbled as Millicent went timidly back to him and tried once again to help him up but he pushed her away again. Still grumbling as he gathered himself and then the body of the man with a collar. Slumping the body over his shoulder before carrying it back to the carriage and lofting it up to the driver whom placed it next to Rory's body.

"Let's go," Egerton snapped from the carriage and Millicent looked over towards William before turning and with her head down started back to the carriage. Sally let out a breath that was clearly vexed before glancing over at the rest that were still standing near her.

"I am not sure which of those men I wish to see buried ass up so a Dandy Horse can be parked right between their cheeks but at this rate it will be both," she said before leaning on her cane and making her way back towards the carriage. It was time to get moving and the quicker they were away from the scene of the battle, the sooner she figured they could be away from these two cretins.



Two Ships Passing: Constantin did not really say anything at this point. Saying it was not his place and that he wished to rest after the day they had had. Expressing a desire to get some rest, Hazel came down the ropes, followed by Ludwig, and she showed them to the lower part of the ship where they could rest. Both men would take a nap for now. (Easiest way to move Riv's character off screen until he can return from his hand injury.)

Sitting down behind her desk, Regalia sat there and watched the Russian. The longer he was out the better at this rate in her opinion. He had had very little luck thus far remaining uninjured since he arrived on the sailing vessel. Yet, it seemed that he would not be out long an she rubbed her temples as he started to wake. There went the peace and quiet and lack of blood. Hopefully he wouldn't be running into anymore doors or masts or anything else for that matter. Yet only time would tell. Granted the man wasn't even quiet in his sleep and she had to smirk a bit about his words.

"You are in my chambers and in my bed, I think we are beyond a hat and wine," she said as she sat up more fully in her chair and looked over to him. "Perhaps not wine," she added as she motioned to the bottle on her desk and the chalices that were there, left over from her talk with Collette earlier. Pouring them both a glass she pushed one over to the other side of the desk. "Careful, I wouldn't want you to injure yourself again. Should I call for your traveling companion?" she asked before picking up her glass and taking a sip. "Or will you be fine for now?"

Marco and Silvio exchanged placed, Marco now tending to the wheel as Silvio came over to the group on the desk. "Madam," he said addressing Collette and then nodding towards Fyror. "Is there anything I could fetch for you? I suspect now that things have calmed and we are on our way again you two would be good for a meal after todays little adventure."

Carlisle: The man looked at Virginia and motioned for her to follow him as he kept walking. "Hrm, this way I go, if she there I help, if not I don't," he said as he continued on his way. His walk was a little wobbly but after seeing the way that Ludwig held himself when he moved around from place to place it seemed this man had far better footing beneath him than Ludwig did. Perhaps no one from Germany knew how to walk a straight line. Everything was surely gayly forward.

"Hrm, pale skin. Surprised someone hasn't tried to kill you yet thinking you were one of them. Haven't seen one as pale as you since the Carpathians," he said as he pulled out a dried piece of something. It was hard to rip but he eventually got a good grasp on it and tore it in twain. Holding one out to her, whether she took it or not was yet to be seen and that didn't stop him but going ahead and taking a bite from the other piece. Chewing loudly as he continued on his way.

"Green, so green it will be but nothing but jealously is such a shade," he said more to himself than to her. "What color would be yours little one? Personally I love all the colors but red, I would say red favors me most," he said as his lips thinned a bit.

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William was almost disappointed when help was finally offered to Rutherford. The sight of the Lord struggling on the ground had been a welcome distraction from the stench of blood and death, but as Lady Kirkpatrick's companion moved forwards to help, the bitter air came rushing back. Practiced hands, moving quickly, made quick work of the tangled beads, removing the rosary still intact. William continued to watch, silently. This detour had certainly been an interesting one, and he was intrigued by the two women they had stumbled across. Not only Lady Kirkpatrick, who was already living up to the near-legendary status her name carried with it, but also this other woman, where clearly there was more to her than first met the eye.

Not just a woman, but a mother as well, if brief conversation she had with Lady Kirkpatrick was anything to go by at least. For the second time, William found his thoughts wandering to his own mother. His memory of her was fractured at best, but what memories he still had, he clung to, refusing to let them slip from his mind. Her kindness had never left him, and he had a vivid memory that he'd never let go, of her singing to him, while his father played the violin. Her voice had been flawless, and his father's passion and love had flowed with every note. That was when his father had played his instrument for joy, after William's mother had passed, it had become an obsession. His father would play and play until his fingers bled, until every note was perfect, swearing to himself that if he ever found the Devil, he wouldn't lose a second time.

William shook himself out of it again, maybe he was getting old and nostalgic, maybe steady company was shaking his facade loose, but he had found himself losing himself in his thoughts more often that he normally did. Glancing around, he caught Millicent's look back at him, before she moved back towards the carriage after Rutherford, and Lady Kirkpatrick's scathing comment, before she too moved towards the carriage. Left alone with the other woman, William decided to try and make conversation, hopefully doing better than he had with Millicent just a moment before. Putting on his warmest smile, he turned to her.

"We haven't been properly introduced. William Fraser, at your service. Will you walk with me?"

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Constatin walked away, leaving them with more questions than answers. It seemed their mutual friend Millicent had more than one person's attention, and one of them was the Grand Duchess. Just what was going on with that woman? When Colette met her, she found herself liking her and her story is very much one Colette wished to avoid. So she felt protective. Fyror may be the same, though she had a feeling it was more basic than that. The woman was good looking, that much was certain. It is no surprise men may be drawn to her.

She turned to face Fyror. "Well Sir Kildragon, we seem to have picked up more people looking for Mademoiselle Millicent. I wonder why the Grand Duchess is looking for her as well. That is something we should look into when we reach our destination." She turned when she was addressed by one of the crew. "I am famished. I am fine with whatever you have though." Colette didn't know what food was on an average ship, but Regalia struck her as the type to have decent food on her vessel, whatever the case.

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Gingerly, Vladimir put a hand to his face. He winced slightly as his fingers probed his flesh and bones to determine the extent of this latest piece of damage he had inadvertently done to himself. It wasn't disfiguring. This was good. Irritating certainly, though vastly inferior in discomfort compared to his Fal'shbort training sessions. It was well within his capacity to endure. He waved away the offer to get Constantin in to tend to him. "No no, is nothing." he mumbled, still not fully himself quite yet. He cleared his throat and took in a sharp breath. Vlad rose form his position carefully and moved to take a seat on the other side of Captain Montoya's desk. He accepted the chalice and took a tentative sip, inhaling the vapors of the fine liquid so as to experience it fully. Such was his way. "But vine... is good. Spasibo." He seemed a little more sedate than normal, though the Captain would likely not understand the levels that were considered "normal" by his people.

"Vill locate hat and bottle later. Hat vas gift, bottle... heh, not vine. You should experience another time, da? Da." The glimmer was coming back into his eyes, and his speech less colored by forced sleep. "For starting, am thanking for hospitality of La Canela ship. I vish to repay, if you are in position for Circus to do so ever." Vladimir verbalized the first few thoughts as a means of flexing his voice and determining how much of the English language he and the Captain had in common. Satisfied that she probably knew more than he did, he regained his more rolling, emotionally nuanced method of speech. But first, another sip of wine.

"Giving of helps to vone another is reason I vish to talk alone. I vould entertain other reasons, but, ehhh..." he beamed a foolish smile at Regalia, lightly insinuating occasions of significantly less formality, before relenting with a flourish of his hands and bow of his head, "Is time of business-ing, for now. But business-ing vith vine? Also nice. To begin: For please, vhat are your thoughts on Graveolase?" Vladimir arched an eyebrow from over his chalice and cocked his head at a slight angle. There was much to discuss in that regard, and The Great Bazhooli could not simply let an opportunity like this pass, his own mysterious lapses in observation and dexterity notwithstanding.

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Virginia shrugged slightly. "I met one of my closest friends when she investigated me as to whether or not I was a Soulless - it does happen from time to time," she told the man. It wasn't too much of a concern. They usually figured out pretty quickly that she was Soulled and if they didn't, Virginia didn't care. She could defend herself. It was more so James that she was worried about. He was so young and not yet trained - once he could dance with the macabre without worrying about losing his soul, then she would be able to relax. Fortunately, the Circus had agreed to train him - and she knew he would love it and grow strong.

"I take it you have been to my ancestral home," she then added, hearing the mention of that mountainous region. She accepted the odd bit of sustenance from him and hesitated in a moment, before sticking it into her mouth and she chewed it, following him down the path. If it was poison, she doubted that he would consume it himself or offer it to her. He was insane, but in an innocent and sweet way that made him trustworthy to her. "As for colors... I believe a lovely soft purple - one that appears to be delicate yet carries the strength of a belladonna plant behind it."

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Maeve nodded to Lady Kirkpatrick - in roughly seven to nine years time she estimated, Roisin would likely be fully trained. By then, she imagined the pain of losing Calum would have dulled and it would be easy to give such a gift to her daughter. Of course, Roisin would be trained in its use by then and it was a Catholic weapon, something that brought joy to Maeve. Protestants were the scum of the Earth, after all. Though they had tied for that title with the British as well in Maeve's opinion - she already missed Ireland. Scotland was fine - England was far worse in her opinion. "Of course, thank ye, m'lady," Maeve told her employer.

She then saw a man with a warm smile approach her, introducing himself. She glanced at him, seeing through the little act - he was attempting to charm her, right after such a tragic loss? She didn't have the stomach for it at the moment. Perhaps if she believed his friendship would be beneficial to her, she would have let him think she had been wooed. Instead, she replied curtly and firmly, "No." She then walked ahead of him to the carriage, following after Lady Kirkpatrick.

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William was left slightly slack-jawed by the woman's response. He thought he had been his best, charming self, looking to make conversation as an escape from the bleak backdrop that they found themselves in, but he had been rebuked. She hadn't even had the courtesy to return the introduction. He frowned as he watched her walk after Lady Kirkpatrick, perhaps he'd been wrong to think there was more to her, perhaps she was simply as she appeared. Besides, if there was more, he was hardly being allowed to see it. Shrugging, and brushing off the rejection, William started to hum to himself, some half-forgotten classical piece, as he moved towards the carriage as well.

It was clear that the group was about to embark, keen to leave the bloody scene behind them. The onward journey would be more crowded, two more needing to fit within the carriage, as well as the two corpses, although William could see that they had been lain across the roof of the carriage itself. He was no fool, he knew that he was hardly at the top of the pile in the group he had found himself in. Two Lords, a Lady, even Millicent was clearly a member of the gentry, and even Rutherford would force his fiance out of the carriage. The other woman he couldn't place yet, but she had Lady Kirkpatrick's favour. If anyone was going to lose their seat, it was going to be William. Thankfully, he was used to not exactly luxury travelling, and he had missed feeling the wind on his face. Avoiding Egerton was a welcome bonus.

Resolving himself to his fate, William continued moving towards the carriage. The story was just beginning to reveal itself, and William would be damned if he missed it. He was already thinking of the songs he could write about the characters he had met, and he continued to hum absentmindedly.

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Disappointment flashed in Fyror's eyes at Constantin's refusal. Glancing down at the ground, he nodded his head, if a bit solemnly. "Fair enough," he spoke up, meeting the man's gaze again. He had hoped that maybe the Grand Duchess had gained some new details about Miss Wyndham's situation that would be of use to him. Nevertheless, he respected the man's desire to keep such details private.

"Of course, I'm sure you have had a long journey," he commented politely when the man expressed the need to rest. Fyror himself was surprised that he wasn't feeling entirely beat. Then again, he likely wouldn't be able to sleep anyways, not while Miss Wyndham's safety was still in question. In that case, he likely had many sleepless nights ahead of him yet.

The look in his eyes grew distant and hinted with a touch of angst for a moment, as if lost in unpleasant thoughts, until Miss Fontaine's voice drew him out of his stupor. He blinked, taking a moment to process what she had said. "Indeed," he replied simply, his response a bit delayed.

His attention turned as one of the crew members came over to them. He didn't realize how hungry he actually was until it was offered. He nodded his head. "Anything will do, really. Thank you," he replied to the man, glancing over at Colette.

Two Carriages Passing: William was right to assume that the carriage would be crowded and that someone might get shoved out to have to ride up with the driver. What he was wrong about was who got shoved where. As people were gathering either in or around the carriage to try to make the travel from the battle location to the next destination the Lady Kirkpatrick put her old but titled foot down and she put it down hard. Lord Rutherford and Lord Egerton would ride above and keep an eye out on the bodies of the dearly departed. Sure Egerton might have been what one would consider a higher rank thank she was in the eyes of the Peers, they were in her country now. This was Scotland, not England.

"You two bumbling buffoons will tend to this," she stated in a flat icy tone. As soon as Egerton's lips began to part the head of her cane was under his chin and shutting it hard. "That was not up for debate." This time her voice carried a warning as did the look in her eyes.

"Let's just go so we can get this over with," Rutherford said in a tense fashion before climbing up to the top of the carriage and taking a seat next to the driver. Egerton's eyes narrowed and he muttered something under his breath before pushing away the cane and exiting the carriage.

Millicent stood there, confused on which way to go but as she felt a hand on her elbow she looked over and saw that it was the Lady Kirkpatrick edging her towards the inside of the carriage. She wasn't about to back talk the older woman and quickly scrambled into the carriage and took a seat. The Lady Kirkpatrick turned her attention to the driver and gave him a quick destination. The man nodded in acknowledgement. Sally looked over towards Maeve and sighed. "I prefer dealing with Soulless," she snipped as her eyes carried northward before climbing into the carriage herself. "Come you two. Let's be on our way."



Two Ships Passing: "Then let's get ya fed," Silvio said as he offered an arm to Colette. Whether she took it or not was completely up to her. He simply waited for her to decide before turning and heading to the back of the ship, opposite to where the Captains quarters were at the front of the ship. Pushing the door open, there was a kitchen and a small table. The room wasn't as large as the captains quarters, a bit less deep but that was to be expected. This was a room mainly for preparation of food, not for living or sleeping in. The room, did smell wonderful however. Colette's assumption that Regalia would have better fare was correct. The captain of this ship wasn't about to serve gruel to crew if she could help it. Though it did appear that much of what they had was running low, which could denote that the ship had been at sea for an extended period of time.

"Tell me, how famished are you two?" the man asked as he motioned for them to go ahead and take a seat at the small table not too far away from the stove.

"Ничего," Regalia said in a tongue that Vlad knew, it was the tongue of Mother Russia. Not the language of his skill but of his homelands. She simple said, it was nothing. The woman obviously actually spoke Russian. Looking at her, one could say that she did hold many traits that Russian women did, could she have been of Russian ancestry? She did have many traits physically resembling Vlad's dearly departed wife. The skin tone, the angular features, the dark hair, the bright eyes. Leaning forward slightly she waved it off. "We happened by you, we will take you to port, simple. I prefer not to complicate matters further. I owe you, you owe me. When does it stop? No, I did something, it ends there. Nothing owed."

Taking a sip from her wine chalice she rolled her eyes a bit. "Antiquated people with antiquated ideas. Staying in the past means repeating the past. Death might teach them a thing or two," she said in passing. "It has me." Setting the goblet down she eyed him. "What do you think of them?"

Carlisle: The man gave her a quizzical look for a moment as his lips popped a few times, his jaw elongating and shortening quickly to create the sound. Then he laughed a bit and shook a finger at her. "Oh you are a funny one. Pride does fit you well, best travel by foot then, would hate to see you broken on the wheel," he laughed as he kept walking. "And I would hate to be dismembered," he added as he set his eyes towards the north.

"Hrm, don't know. Been a lot of places. How many have you seen?" he asked before taking another bite of the chewy dried bit of meat. Chopping on it vigorously, the man obviously had no table manners but then again they weren't at a table. They were walking from the scene of a lot of deaths recently and hitting the open road. Where manners really needed? As he spat a chunk that didn't chew right to him onto the ground before taking another bite, it was apparent he didn't feel as if they were right then.

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William had half-moved to climb onto the carriage when Lady Kirkpatrick spoke. He stopped, and barely managed to stifle a smile as she chided the two Lords like schoolboys. He'd heard rumours of the woman, her reputation preceding her, and often being talked about in the local inns and taverns, but in person, she was resplendent. Her wit was razor-sharp, and she could clearly still more than handle herself, despite her age, if the corpses of Soulless they had found her standing amongst was anything to go by. He didn't doubt that a truly formidable mind sat behind those piercing blue eyes.

Rutherford at least seemed to realise that arguing with Lady Kirkpatrick was a fight he wouldn't win. Swallowing his pride, but not quite resisting the urge to grumble, Rutherford climbed up onto the carriage. Egerton seemed to hesitate more, and William found himself silently willing the man to argue, purely so that he could witness the spite that Lady Kirkpatrick seemed primed to unleash. The head of the cane pressing against his chin seemed to be enough of a deterrent, even for Egerton, and the man finally relented, following after Rutherford. William sighed, almost disappointed, but from what little time he had endured in Egerton's company, he didn't doubt that the man would draw Lady Kirkpatrick's ire again before long, and William planned to be in prime position to watch when he did.

He was glad to see that Lady Kirkpatrick had somewhat taken Millicent under her wing already. For all of William's sense of unease about the wedding Millicent was heading towards, he lacked the power that Lady Kirkpatrick wielded in her wrinkled hands. He only hoped that she really was as intuitive and as shrewd as he thought she was. Realising that it was only himself and the other, fairly rude woman yet to board the carriage, William made a move. Hoping to remedy some of the damage he seemed to have inadvertently caused earlier, he help open the carriage door, and gestured for the woman to go before him, smiling as he did.

"After you, ma'am, I insist."

He watched her face as she spoke, all too ready for another rebuke, but curious to see how the woman did react. In that brief moment, he seemed to catch himself. His empathy, his compassion, his humanity, all came rushing back. Maybe he really had been playing his part for too long, that somewhere along the way of perfecting his charm, he'd lost some part of himself. He'd found this woman in the midst of bloody carnage, two of her companions had been slain, and even now were strapped to the carriage roof, and his first act had been to try and win her over? How far had he fallen? His smile fading, he properly looked at Maeve for the first time, bowing his head slightly as he spoke.

"If you wish, that is."

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"Thank you," Virginia said, in regard to his compliment that she was funny and prideful. Most people had the misconception that the Crypts were a rude and evil family. It was a cause of great annoyance to Virginia. They were just as polite and kind as any other family! The main thing that set them apart was their tight sense of family values and togetherness, and their dedication to dark forces and their eventual rise. It wasn't that much different than what other families were like, no? "Dismemberment is an acquired taste - though I think you would look quite smart without an arm," she said, returning the compliment and not flirting or anything like that.

As for his question about travel, Virginia wished she had done more so far in her life. "I've largely traveled to the United States," she explained. She had trained there for years, after all. "Of course, now that my brother is sorted, perhaps I will have the chance to explore more," she mused. It would be nice and fulfilling. Besides, her family certainly had the money for it and she imagined she could get some member of the staff to see to business while she was away. She continued to walk with the man, still chewing a bit on the strange thing he had offered her, not really certain if it was meant to be eaten or just chewed.

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Maeve nodded at Lady Kirkpatrick, feeling a kinship with that sentiment. These people were horrid from what she had seen. The woman was skittish and annoyed her, reminding her of a traumatized kitten. Then there was the man, William, who had attempted to charm her - and Maeve found that repulsive. The two lords had obvious personality flaws. Once more, she had to wonder just why this group of people had been selected to live over Calum and Rory. It made little sense to her. Unfortunately, her nerves were tested once more as William tried again.

"If you're tryin' ter be charmin', you're as enchantin' as a slug," Maeve told him bluntly, stepping into the carriage and taking a seat next to her employer. She figured that Lady Kirkpatrick would rather have her close than either of the two strangers. And at any rate, Lady Kirkpatrick was her employer - if she needed anything, Maeve would be just a few feet closer which was clearly ideal.

She tried not to think about Calum's body on the roof.

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A sparkle showed in Vladimir's eyes, seeing as the Captain appeared to be a woman of some sort of ethical code. Not his code mind you, but a code of behavior nonetheless. At least it seemed that way as she seemed to be invoking the adage of neither being a borrower nor a lender. Nonetheless, a person with a Code, if you understood what it entailed, you knew where you stood with them. The stories about pirates and Sea Folk rarely highlighted a strict list of preferred ethic, more than a series of superstitions and ritual behaviors. Thinking about it though, it only made sense that people living a lifestyle as unpredictable (quite literally) as the sea would have a means of treating each other, complete with strong guidelines of behavior if not hard and fast rules. Unless he was totally misreading the statements as they were given to him, and seeing in the woman what he wanted to see. He was fully aware that he was harboring a bit of an infatuation for Captain Montoya, and trying not to let it color his actions. Yet. What was life without passion, anyway? Nothing worth living, that's what. So sayeth The Great Bazhooli.

He raised an eyebrow at the casual use of the tongue of Mother Russia, though he did not pay it any more attention than to smile richly and take another drink of the wine provided him. "Sounding like Crypts..." he mused, before shaking his head and getting on point. "Let us not make the talkings about owed, da? I lead group of peoples, too. Sem'ya, eh... family, vith extensions, of descendants of origin Alexandrov noble line and Carpathian Gypsy dating before time of Ivan Vasilyevich. Performers. Vhen not putting on show, keeping to selves, close. Not letting many in. You understand?" Vladimir set his glass down and peered into Captain Montoya's eyes. He steepled his fingers in front of himself and prepared to discuss business, as he indicated earlier. "This vay vill be our undoing, all. Not knowing how has been on sea, but land? Bezdushnyy, ah - Soulless organizing. Attacking. Killing in dark ov night and open day now. Is some safety vith Circus, most ov us vith Rusyn Training, but is only matter of time."

"Vhat thinking of Graveolase? As you say, antiqvated. Serving selves. Keeping power for sake of power. New Arch Graveolase has taken over, fiery young voman from Vatican, trying to make better change, but they resist. Good voman. Scary, but vith true goodness. Ve came here to join. Grand Duchess could not, seeing vhat she saw about Graveolase. Instead, she makes new path. Alliance vith Mad Germans; hoping alliance vith others. Ve come together or ve die apart. Is simple. Soulless at open var vith all peoples now. Novhere truly safe. Cannot keep to selves. Must ally vith, learn from others, teach others. Othervise, no future remaining. I believe is only beginning." Vladimir obviously had a general aura of drama, coupled with an outgoing, fairly histrionic demeanor. But in this moment, it was subdued into a different, quieter sort of intensity.

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Colette felt a bit of a coolness from Monsieur Kildragon when he addressed her. She assumed he would be as willing to look into the matter as her, but his mind seemed elsewhere. She had anticipated including him in her quest to locate Millicent and look into the matter of why everyone seemed to want to find her, but perhaps she would go about it alone if this was how he intended to act. He saved her life after all, she was thankful, but weren't manners a thing? At least pretend, as so many upper class often did.

She took the man's arm once offered and followed him into the kitchen. It was quaint, about what one expected from a ship of this size. She sat at the table. Truth be told, she hadn't eaten all day. Add on the fact she was propelled off her previous ship and then rescued only to enter a sparring match with the captain. She was VERY hungry. Did she abandon manners and lie or tell the truth in the hopes of being fed rather well.

"I am quite hungry. I have not eaten all day and recent events have left me even more so. Whatever you have will suffice, I do not wish to take what resources you have for you and yours." In truth, her hunger won over courtly manners. She wasn't even at court anyway!

After the rather action packed adventure and the nose breaking schenanigans, Constantin felt a well deserved need for a nap. Which also doubled as a good way to get inside the ship and not look at all the deep waters about the place. He had hopped to the chance of the nap and was actually grateful the loony German managed to go down without injuring himself. You never knew... considering Vlad just broke his nose like 4 times or so in such a short span and he was usually the stable footed one.

At least his dreams were rather calm. He didn't really dream any nightmares or overly sweet dreams. It was a usual dream mixture of 1 part sensible things, 2 parts nonsense physics and 2 parts loose story points that come and go randomly.

Well that was at least how he would have vaguely remember it once he woke up. For his sleeping mind it all made the most perfect of sense! Like how he started dancing on the ship then suddenly everything was on fire and the deep water got evaporated or something because his feet were just that heated from all the fire dancing. Also there was a wild Veta and Vlad who were doing their own things like riding Myshka while jumping on flying fishes and well faceplanting into a brick wall... that was in the middle of owhere cause well the ocean went poof. Ahh the good old dreams that didn't make much sense once you thought about it. Especially when the fact Veta was dressed like a rusalka, but that will be kept to himself even if he remembers it once he wakes up.

Two Carriages Passing: The Lady Kirkpatrick looked over towards Maeve and smirked a bit. One couldn't really tell if the woman was proud of what Maeve had said or if she was displeased by the womans words and actions. The woman most likely preferred that people didn't know exactly what she was thinking at all times, it would make it simpler in the long run.

Millicent on the other had looked a bit confused but it wasn't clear why. There was just this look on her face that was one of perplexing origin. Yet she didn't bother to say anything as things were settled and the carriage started to pull away from the scene. It was about time as well as far as some were probably concerned. It was a nice break and a bit of peace and quiet right then but the carriage ride was anything but quiet once they reached the cobblestoned road. It would hard to hear anything going on either inside or outside if one was in the other location and it seemed that the Lady Kirkpatrick was keen to use this to her advantage.

"Why in bloody hell are you two traveling with those bumbling buffoons?" she asked flatly as she rested her hands on the top of her cane. It was clear that Millicent was not going to answer that question right then as the woman went deathly white as soon as the question was asked and her eyes lowered sharply to the floor of the carriage. This left William to answer first, if he chose to answer at all.



Two Ships Passing: Silvio chuckled a bit and shook his head. "Needn't worry yerself lass. We will resupply when we dock and you leave us. Small bit to look forward too even if we do have to lose you then," he said as he made his way to the stove. "Though if ye haven't eaten much, might wanna be careful what we put in yer belly Lass. Wouldn't want to cause a storm of the bowels," he said before looking over towards Fyror and awaiting an answer from the man.

Regalia looked at the man and quirked a brow. After he finished his very long speech she had to hold a hand up and hold back a chuckle. Taking a breath she leaned forward and started speaking but this time she set any doubt aside whether or not she was fluent in Russian. It seemed she was and spoke the language as if she was born to it. "Я извиняюсь, правда. Я не хочу смеяться, но твой акцент такой густой, а твои слова такими разбитыми, что я едва мог разобрать два слова из того, что ты говорил. Как насчет того, чтобы мы просто разговаривали друг с другом, как если бы вы были в вашем цирке. Это будет намного проще для нас обоих. Теперь давайте попробуем это снова. По-русски." (*Translation PMed)

Carlisle: The man grinned and nodded. "Oh yes, I would indeed but alas, I do have such fetching sleeves it would be a pity to only be able to show one off at a time. Now, a leg. Oh yes, I could sport quite the carved peg and it would be much easier to clean than trousers. Oh yes, fine idea indeed. As long as one didn't lose their head over the matter," he said, chuckling to himself as he kept walking.

At the mention of a brother he looked over towards her slowly. "Dare I ask if he is headed for the Americas? If so, we should turn course now to retrieve the boy, that side of the world is no ones friend currently," he said rather frankly as he stopped in his tracks and faced the woman. "East is safe for now, west is anything but my child. Avoid the setting sun, it brings nothing but darkness and not the welcome kind either."

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Fyror tried to shake off the sense of foreboding and worry that had gripped him once more. That's not to say that it had ever truly gone away to begin with. No, for him such feelings came and went like the waves of the ocean, and right now, they were most assuredly in a storm. Truth be told, beyond that air of seriousness was a man who just couldn't stand to see others suffer, and he often bore their suffering like it was his own. His own health be damned.

He silently followed after Miss Fontaine and Silvio. In an attempt to relieve himself of those gnawing feelings, he instead elected to contemplate Colette's words. Why was the Grand Duchess also interested in searching for Miss Wyndham? Well, he supposed the woman had the same, or similar, information he did, if not entirely newfound information. Though that begged another question, why was Colette so determined to see this through as well? He recalled upon first meeting Colette that she had stated that she knew of what Lord Rutherford was. But to what extent?

His lips thinned just thinking back on the graphic information Doctor Graham had given him regarding the deaths of Lord Rutherford's previous wives. It wasn't something he wished to recall again, let alone talk about openly. However, he supposed he should brush aside his own discomfort and lay it all out for Colette. She deserved to know. He let out a small sigh, vaguely taking in the details of the small kitchen before turning his attention to Silvio. "Quite. I will gladly take whatever you can spare," he replied.

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William had been expecting the retort from the woman, but that didn't make the blow any softer. Bizarrely though, he smiled as she moved past him and climbed into the carriage. Now that he'd looked at the woman properly, he didn't see rejection in her rebukes, he saw a strength. She had a fire burning in her heart, a strong will behind those blue-green eyes. He'd been wrong to think that her bluntness had been a sign that there was nothing special about this girl, it was a sign that there was much more to her. He hoped that his initial entitled blundering hadn't condemned him too much in her mind, he relished the opportunity of getting to know the woman in time.

Stepping up into the carriage, William closed the door behind him, and took his seat beside Millicent. A moment after he had, the carriage lurched forwards, and their journey continued. The carriage was dragged through the mud as it returned to the road, and William took the chance to glance around the other characters within. He caught a look of perplexity across Millicent's face, just for an instant, and he frowned slightly himself. He decided it would be best to give Millicent some time without his prying, hopefully to recover from his pushing too far just moment earlier.

The carriage made it back to the road, and the clattering of the wheels on the cobblestones drowned out any outside noise, William's teeth rattling in his head as they bounced and juddered along. Lady Kirkpatrick spoke, her voice just audible above the noise from the road. William glanced towards Millicent, but it was clear the young woman wasn't going to answer, her face turning pale and her gaze focusing on everything but Lady Kirkpatrick. Realising that this would have to serve as his cue, William took an instant to think, before he spoke himself, keeping his voice low enough so that it wouldn't travel out of the carriage.

"I cannot speak for Miss Wyndham, but I believe her experience with the two Lords is greater than my own. For myself, our paths simply crossed earlier today in Port Annan and I offered them my services as a musician."

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It was quite accurate to say that Vladimir spoke and understood the language of the British Isles a little better than he let on. The accent was quite real, though the inexpert sentences rolled out in his deep stage voice tended to give him an air of foreign mystery when involved in shows away from the heart of the Russian Empire. Likewise, if someone thought to use his apparent lack of linguistic skill to ply for an advantage, they would be sorely mistaken. It was his curse sometimes to be histrionic when uncalled for, and this was one of those times.

As it turned out, Captain Montoya happened to speak his native language, and proficiently. While he still spoke dramatically in Russian, it was decidedly more understandable. "Very sorry. Vill speak in brief. Or as brief as can, ov course. Os and Ks, maybe not so brief. I begin:" Vladimir cleared his throat and allowed the Slavic syllables to roll from his mouth with the fluid ease of one born among the mighty forests and steppes of the Empire. Вы очень похожи на Склеп, если вы знакомы с семьей. У нас общий предок. Но это не обязательная деталь к обсуждаемой теме. He shook his hand dismissively.

"Я говорил, что мы оба лидеры людей, возможно, немного замкнуты и ксенофобны по сравнению со многими. He shrugged his shoulders with what appeared to be grudging objectivity, "Мой народ - потомки обоих дворян, чья милость восходит к временам Ивана Грозного и цыган Карпатских гор. Излишне говорить, что наш социальный статус в лучшем случае интересен, в зависимости от того, с кем вы говорите. Мы исполнители, живущие и работающие в мобильной вотчина. Но если мы не развлекаем толпы и не делаем служение Императору, мы почти полностью держимся за себя."

Vladimir knew that he was being a touch long winded. The importance of every syllable he uttered was more eloquently nuanced in his native tongue, and could not be abbreviated without trimming the urgency of their need. He adopted a less prideful, more serious countenance, and began to speak with more of a businesslike manner. "Вот в чем проблема: я не знаю, как обстоят дела на море, но на суше бездушные нападают на живых с организованной, и я повторюсь, организованной тактикой. Это как если бы ими руководил единый признанный разум. Все они действуют согласованно, и это приводит к изменению нашей собственной тактики выживания. Те из нас, у кого есть Русин Тренинг, могут продержаться дольше, но это только вопрос времени, когда мы тоже погибнем.

But to respond to the return volley of his question? It was a little more complicated than a simple Yea or Nay. Things had transpired which altered the balance of power as of late. "Мое мнение о Graveolase? Я согласен, что они устарели. Я добавлю себя корыстным и что они заинтересованы в сохранении своей собственной власти. Новый лидер был назначен среди них; молодая девушка из Ватикана с огненными волосами, которая, кажется, не испорчена их политикой." Indeed, much had changed with that one happenstance rebalancing of authority. "Она может быть пугающей, но по-настоящему хорошим и этичным человеком. Большая часть Graveolase сопротивляется ее представлениям об изменениях. Их дом разделен и спорит между собой, когда перед ними стоит истинный путь, поэтому наша Великая Княгиня приняла беспрецедентное решение о создании нашего собственного союза. Мы собираемся вместе или мы умираем друг от друга. Это так просто. Бездушные ведут открытую войну с живыми сейчас. Нигде действительно безопасно. Хотя наши люди были отделены от мира в течение некоторого времени, мы не можем оставаться таковыми. Мы готовы открыть наши двери и учиться у других. Учите других нашим путям. В противном случае у нас нет будущего.

But to the final point of his request for a private conversation with the Captain, the crux of the plea, if you will, "Немцы согласились присоединиться к нам в лице господина Циммера. Я бы попросил вас обдумать мои слова, проконсультироваться с Людвигом и поговорить позже. Ох, а это вино? Великолепный. Еще раз спасибо за ваше гостеприимство. У вас есть вопросы? Vladimir finished the remainder of the wine in his goblet and set it upon the desk in front of him. His eyes were grim and affirming. It was, admittedly, a lot to take in at once. One hell of a speech; one that very few would believe was off the cuff, as much a battlecry as assertion of unity. He even went as far as to wipe away a single tear of nostalgic pride, his mind awash with the emotions his words stirred within him. There was hope, fear, and the promise of one day facing the sun rising over a world safe for his children and theirs, all within the breadth of his immaculate showman's musings.

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Virginia giggled slightly at the man's talk. None of the normals ever would have entertained the fashion behind missing limbs. "What wood would you carve your leg from?" Virginia asked. She herself was partial to hawthorn wood - it just screamed conflict and turmoil. It was something she could relate to, living as a Crypt in this world. She really would have appreciated being born a bit earlier - perhaps she could have lived in Salem. Perhaps she could have gone and lived in Spain - would she be accused of meddling with Dark Forces? Oh, she certainly hoped so.

"Oh, no, I do not believe so - he's in the care of the Russian Circus," she explained. She was relatively certain that James would be heading East shortly - the only thing that complicated matters was the uncertain fate of Elizaveta. Yet at any rate, she doubted they would drag James as far west as the Americas. No, he would be safe, Virginia reassured herself. "Thank you for your council," she said earnestly. She appreciated his attempts to look out for her brother.

"...And do call me Virginia, please."

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Maeve interpreted Lady Kirkpatrick's smirk as being positive - though it truly was unclear. She just had to hope that it was a mark of pride in her employee's conduct, yet she imagined if it were not, Lady Kirkpatrick would have caned her by now. She did love her cane. However, it ultimately did not matter too much what Lady Kirkpatrick thought about how Maeve treated William. She had a contract secure for Roisin's training and safety, and she felt that her employer would be fine with her conduct.

Of course William was a musician. He had an awfully high opinion of himself from what Maeve could tell and she rolled her eyes as he spoke. The woman looked confused and in Maeve's opinion, perhaps she was scared? "Look, ye 'eadin' ter blather or not? Cos 'onestly, anythin' yer 'av ter say 'ill be far less irritatin' than your bard," Maeve told Millicent bluntly, nodding a bit at William. She knew that there was perhaps a more gentle way to say this, but she was already on her last nerve with all of these people, mostly due to Calum's death.

Right about now the fire walker had no idea he was in the land of dreams and things were being rather interesting. Constantin was standing on the deck of the ship which was weirdly straight and upright. Especially when you consider the fact the entire ocean had evaporated under the mighty heat of his fire walking! With that the number one problem of deep water had went away. The ocean floor was to him an endless field of sand and rocks. After all he had never studied or heard what it's like down there. The closest his mind had to work with was riverbeds.

All was good so far except he still wasn't alone here. The ship crew was now milling about carrying ropes and chests and shovels. Weirdly enough Vlad was the one leading them now for some reason. He had a big tricorn hat and an eyepatch. Which Constantin mused was probably the reason why dream Vlad was faceplanting into walls and ground left and right. Then there was the Rusalka Veta who was frankly dressed too revealingly.. well dressed was a strong word for it. Her wet hair was just covering her body in weirdly precise manner. She was still riding Myska, but the tiger had seaweed hair and pearl necklace for some reason. Then there was the fact that Veta was riding the tiger to jump on the flying fishes that were still moving around despite the water being gone.” … Whaaaaa ... ?“ He was speechless frankly.

Just as he was about to call out to Veta he suddenly heard a familiar voice of dream Vlad he finally stood up from the ground his nose dripping blood. Then everything around picked up a song.” Shiver my timbers, shiver my soul, Yo ho, heave ho...” And it was literally everything, the flying fishes, myshka, Vlad, hell even the ship was somehow singing. It made him nearly jump and seeing it all singing made him want to run away from the weirdness.

He watched in amazement while Rusalka Veta led the impromptu pirate Vlad and crew procession off to somewhere with the singing chests filled with alcohol, meat and gold. It's important to mention Vlad faceplanted into a big rock almost right away, but didn't stop singing!

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Colette felt herself blush at the mere mention of...bowels. She had to remember she was on a ship and not a tea party with the upper echelon. It was different here, though she did not need to be reminded. "I will adhere to your advice then and take it easy, but I am quite famished. Anything will do nicely." She wasn't expecting a five-course meal. In fact, she had, more or less, expected it to be bread and butter and maybe fish.

Colette glanced briefly at Fyror as the man managed to speak again. She was now beginning to be unsure of him. What was his goal with Millicent? Was he just a man looking out for the well-being of a lady in need or was there something more beneath. After all, Colette knew full well how people, men in particular, could be seen as one thing and are truly monsters underneath. Though he did save her life, that did not mean he was chivalrous in all aspects. Perhaps she was a bit too quick to judge. Though, she would give him a chance. She owed him that much.