Two Carriages Passing: The Lady Kirkpatrick looked at William and rolled her eyes. "Of course you cannot speak for the lady. No one said you should. Such presumption, the woman is capable of answering for herself, that unless you hold her tongue. You spoke more of her than yourself and gave me no answer truly. Crossed paths and joined in? Will I have to have teeth pulled to get a straight answer?" she snipped towards the man before looking over at Maeve and nodding sharply.

"Yes, out with it lass, we haven't much time before we are bombarded by buffoons."

Millicent slowly looked up and then around, her eyes peering out of the carriage for a moment before looking back at them. "That is my business but as payment for the momentary moment of separation from the heathen above I will say I am only ensuring that my path, however dark, is not my siblings. Sometimes you have to sell your soul to free your families." Her voice was even as she spoke before she went silent again and looked back out of the window. The Lady Kirkpatrick rose a brow and smirked slightly.

"That sounds like a worthy sale."



Two Ships Passing: Silvio nodded and started to prepare some plates. Only two, since he was not himself hungry at the time and had eaten soon before this coming together had occurred. "So, please, if ye dun't mind. Tell me, what brings you out to dark waters? Must be quite the tale and I could sorely use one after so many months on sea. What brings two land lubers such as yerself to be traveling so swiftly away from where you came?" he asked as he continued to get the food together. It was nothing much, cheeses and sliced meats with some hard bread, served with a wine. Placing the plates in front of them he sat down and leaned against the back of his chair.

Regalia listened to what all that Vlad had to say and nodded as he spoke. That was until he reached the end and she shook her head slowly. Then she finally responded to what all he had to say. "Нет реальных вопросов. Мы предложим нашего помощника, но только на воде. Наш вид не преуспевает на суше. Жизнь была дана, чтобы быть на море, новая жизнь действительно приносит нам неприятности, если мы слишком далеко уходим от глубоких вод. Есть и другие. Те, которые совет не счел целесообразным представлять. У них есть свои причины, чтобы оставить каждого из вас. Нам, с другой стороны, это более личное. То, что я собираюсь вам сказать, вы можете не чувствовать себя хорошо, но если мы собираемся работать вместе, даже мимоходом, это вы должны знать. Мы не то, что мы появляемся. Теперь, если вы хотите, чтобы я подробно рассказал об этом, я могу, но если нет, вы можете поговорить со своим немецким другом, он знает нашу историю." She waited to see just how he would proceed from there.

Carlisle: "Oh, oh, interesting question indeed," he said as he looked over to her. Then he looked up towards the sky as if he was in thought as he kept walking. "Hrm, yes, oak. Hard, ling lasting, beautiful, many colors and shades. One for each day of the week. Oh yes, very nice. From the dark forest of home. It would far out last me, ahh yes, fine idea. Fine idea. Two hundred years from now, one could go 'that was the leg of the legendary Wagner.' Oh yes, fine idea. Make it oak," he said and a rough smile came to his lips before he looked back at the girl.

"Oh ho! Ahh yes, circus, well organized, tight knit. Like silk weaving, not like wool. Too many loop holes, none with them, fine, yes fine. Good choice, good choice," he added as he kept walking. "Oh Virginia, Virginia. The virgin, the maiden. The stars were made for you, in memory, by dear sweet Parthenos while she resided in Bubatus. IN the heavens you lie and wait, last of the greats to leave us mortals to fend for ourselves. Oh dear sweet Virginia, how they twist your tale to make their own. Take the road you wish to travel or all roads lead to Rome," he mused to himself even if he was vocal about it.

"Dear sweet Virginia, Nymandus VonLitchel Wolfgang Wagner. You may call me Ny," he chuckled.

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Fyror took in a bit of a breathy inhale at Silvio's questions. He glanced over at Colette before looking back over at the man. "Well, it's sort of a long story. How much time have you got?" he attempted to joke but it mostly fell flat. He wasn't much of a jokester. I mean he had his moments. However, they were few and far between. He pursed his lips, trying to decide where to start. He figured now would be as good a time as any to lay out all the details, if only for Colette's benefit. Perhaps though, if he was honest with himself, it would also do him some good to lay out what was on his heart.

"We are on a rescue mission. A woman is in dire need of aid. The woman's fiancé is sketchy at best and an extortionist--rapist--and murderer at worst," he answered Silvio but his gaze was on Colette the whole time. His demeanor was deadly serious as he looked at her, as if willing her to understand what she was truly getting herself into. He only relinquished his gaze when Silvio placed the plates in front of them. "Thanks," he stated, nodding to the man. He took a bite of the cheese, before glancing back over at Colette. His gaze was a touch softer this time. He hoped he hadn't been too blunt, but he hadn't really seen any way around it. She needed to know what they were up against sooner rather than later.

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William had to hold back a physical wince. The auburn-haired woman sitting opposite him really wasn't pulling her punches. His hopes of getting to know her, of recovering from his initial misreading of her, was becoming a fainter reality with every minute that passed. Regardless, he didn't try and defend himself, and he only glanced towards the woman as she spoke, his face not giving anything away. Maybe this was justified, or maybe it was simply her way of venting, venting about the loss of the two figures strapped to the roof, or venting about something altogether different. Either way, it wasn't William's place to stop her.

For how much he had enjoyed Lady Kirkpatrick's ire when it was turned towards Egerton and Rutherford, William certainly didn't enjoy when it was turned towards him. The younger woman was blunt, but he could shrug that off, Lady Kirkpatrick had much more experience at this, and her words actually cut. Before he could even begin to think of an answer, Millicent broke her own silence. He glanced across to her, and found out the answer to the question he had asked himself, just minutes before.

It was for her family? He'd been right to feel something wrong with this engagement, all the way back in that tavern in Port Annan, but he didn't give himself time to congratulate himself. He held his own tongue, he had waded in without care too many times, now was the time for tact, or at least some semblance of it. His place was to wait, and to watch. In his own mind, he'd entered into some half-contract with Millicent, some sense of honour binding him to her. For now, at least, he would play the part of the musician, ready to play at the couple's wedding, and only fueled by the promise of payment. Besides, he wasn't too fond of drawing Lady Kirkpatrick's razor wit back at him, not for now at least.

Constantin looked after the pirates, Captain Vlad and Rusalka Veta heading away from him into the great sand and rock field, hearing the weirdly catchy song, which was bound to be stuck in his head for a long while. Eventually after the shock passed, he realized he was left alone on this ship and hurriedly climbed down from it, running after the others who by now had gained a weirdly good distance advantage. He understood about Veta and the Fish hopping tiger, but he had no idea how a constantly faceplaning into things Vlad in the short span of a minute was like half a mile away!

Out of breath and sweating he ran after them, slowly gaining ground. Too slowly actually! In the distance they were walking and singing while he was sprinting, yet he was barely getting closer! The song was getting ever louder as eventually they had stopped moving and were digging a few holes. He could see Veta in the air on the tiger, playing with a golden fish.

By the time he finally reached them, the song seemed to be about to end as Vlad pulled out a pair of comically long guns with dozens of barrels each and then the shots echoed with a final statement ' Dead men tell no tales!', from Vlad and Veta. It was precisely at this point he woke up.

He was breathing fast, still half asleep, in panic and wonder while he slowly realized where he actually was.” It vas just a dream... Thank god...” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He had just dreamed pirate Vlad doing piraty things while Veta was casually standing there looking all pretty and mystical and stuff. Recalling that image he blushed and pushed it away from his mind. “ Must be because of the ship... yeah...”

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Ah, such a eyebrow perk was earned by the Captain, courtesy of The Great Bazhooli. It was intriguing. Captivating of his attention, as most things of immediate curiosity tended to be, most particularly from the sort of man who embraced the diversities and experiences that life stretched before him, as a hungry yet open-minded man might while attending a great celebration feast of a foreign land. He was enraptured by the coming turn to the conversation, and did not wish to wait for intermediary nor intermission to continue. "Капитан Монтойя, я действительно проконсультируюсь с ученым, мистер Людвиг Циммер, по поводу истории вашего народа. Но давайте не будем заниматься ненужной рутинной работой, необходимой для того, чтобы покинуть свою каюту, найти человека и задать ему точно такой же вопрос, который вы только что вызвались объяснить. Такие разговорные скитания происходят под такими людьми, как мы, которые ожидают самого лучшего от тех, кто находится под нашей властью, и не уступают нам самим. Я бродил по Империи своего рождения из одного угла в другой всю свою жизнь. И части за ее пределами. Я видел вещи, которые замораживают кровь и разрушают души хороших людей. Более того, я совершил действия, которые многие сочли бы предосудительными в обществах как вежливых, так и варварских, во имя Причины и Семьи, не говоря уже о безопасности тех, кто находится под моей защитой. Vladimir maintained a respectful, if aloof smile, hiding what might be considered a burning desire to hear The Story, such as it might be.

In reference to his own people's somewhat greyish background, Vladimir continued with the tones of a man of experience, both worldly and as a point of recorded history. The education of the Russian Circus Folk, especially that of the ruling families therein, was of importance to them as a culture. "Наша собственная история крайне сомнительна, капитан. Я не верю, что все, что вы мне сейчас скажете, о ваших людях или о себе, заставит меня передумать искать вас как союзника и объединить наши дома против общего врага всех людей. Пожалуйста, позвольте нам обойтись без формальностей. Расскажи мне историю твоей "Ла Канелы". У меня есть только одна просьба заранее?" Indeed, be it righteous or ignoble, one must never attempt to cover one's history. But so long as dialogue was continued among peers (and not Peers, mind you), tiny concessions might be requested.

Vladimir's smile broadened and he made a dramatic, sweeping gesture toward the goblet upon the desk in front of him. His head was bowed, and he spoke with grandeur ordinarily reserved for addressing an unfamiliar member of the Russian Royal Family; one of the many lesser Dukes or Duchesses, or someone to whom he owed a debt of striking gratitude. "Еще один бокал вина, если я могу продолжать навязывать ваше гостеприимство? Разговор и слушание - оба жаждущие работы. Если мы когда-нибудь найдем бутылку, которую я принесла на борт, я буду фантастически рад возвращению услуги." He peeked an eye up toward Captain Montoya, the playful expression of a boy attempting to impress a girl with a barely appropriate sense of jocularity.

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Virginia could not help but beam slightly at his explanation of what type of wood he would craft a replacement limb from. It was so much more worthwhile conversation than anything she had really experienced in London. Too many were concerned with gowns and social standing - but if you asked them what wood they wanted for a limb or for a casket, their answers fell short! While she already knew that she missed her parents dearly, Virginia did not realize how much she yearned for proper conversation.

His commentary on her name was interesting as well, as she pondered his phrases. She was named for the Virgin Queen of England, Elizabeth the First. She would have preferred that her parents name her after some sort of despicable murderer or suspected traitor of the Church, but the Virgin Queen, daughter of Henry the Eighth, was as good a choice as any. The connection with the ex-Colony could not be overlooked either, something that made her fond of the Americas before she even began her training there. "Ny, it's a pleasure," Virginia said, continuing to walk with him.

His words had moved her. She would complete this task, to aid her friend, and then she would embark on the journey she had always dreamed of. She would finally get to dabble with the Dark Forces, as every little Crypt girl and boy dreamed of doing. "Tell me more of this Parthenos? I'm quite curious," Virginia said, looking at Ny.

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Maeve couldn't help but notice something slightly out of place. She recalled Lady Kirkpatrick's warning earlier, when she had first come into her employment. When observing a servant girl at an inn, Lady Kirkpatrick had commented that you first had to get things for yourself, then you could worry about helping family. Was that not the opposite of what Millicent was doing now? Perhaps Maeve's memory was faulty but either way, she didn't let the moment of confusion show on her face. She would have to contemplate this later.

"'ow many souls do yer 'av ter sell? I 'ope more than one," Maeve commented, looking at Millicent. She felt a bit of sympathy for her - being engaged to either man on the roof was hardly a pleasant fate. However, she couldn't help but feel it was short sighted. Whatever dark path she was sparing her family from, would marrying the man on the roof really be a solution? Or was it just a temporary fix? Maeve hoped for Millicent's sake, it really was a permanent solution. Otherwise, her sale of her soul may just be for nothing.

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The food was brought out before her and, much like she imagined, it wasn't anything spectacular. But she was hungry so anything food related looked appetizing at the moment. She almost dove in before she remembered that, despite the circumstances, she was still a lady. And to that end, before she could answer the man's question, Fyror spoke up. She was a bit surprised as she seemed to think the man had gone mute, but he answered. What fascinated her was that his gaze was on her even though he answered the man. She met his gaze with an amused one of her own. He spoke of the man Colette had met before. The man Fyror talked about and the one she met on her own seemed like two different people, but Colette knew all too well.

Hell, if she had gone through with the marriage proposal, she may very well be in Millicent's shoes. Unable to break away, unable to do much on her own without the approval of her husband. Fearful for every night in the same bed, dabbing make-up on her face to hide tear stains and bruises. She was lucky and, it seems after her talk with the captain, even luckier.

Once Fyror was finished, she started to eat. "As Monsieur Kildragon has said, we" she highlighted the word, "are on a rescue mission. Hopefully one we will continue quickly." She did not know what Fyror had intended, but she was not some pretty wallflower there. She had every intention of seeing this through, with or without him. She owed it to Millicent as well as herself. And any other woman for that matter.

Kirkpatrick House: The lady Kirkpatrick smirked over towards Maeve and nodded before she continued. It seemed she hadn't been finished with what she was saying, only taking a moment to give pause for emphasis. "A worthy sale that is if you're worthless," she quipped.

"I am NOT worthless." This was the first time around these people that Millicent had sounded anything remotely like she had to those that were close to her. There was force, and spite, and pride in her voice as her words came out short, staccato, and strong. Looking over towards Maeve this made the Lady Kirkpatrick chuckle a bit and nod.

"Then why do it?" the lady asked, pushing more but Millicents eyes narrowed.

"Don't presume that just because you hold some title here or anywhere that you are entitled any answers from me. Or that you are justified in any assumptions of my value. For if you continue to do so I shall return the favor and assume that what I know of your name is true Lady Kirkpatrick. That you are a sour old maid so absolutely dry it does make the English humor as wet and lyrical as the sea," she hissed from between clinched teeth.

The Lady Kirkpatricks brows shot up in surprise. "No one dares speak to me in such a manner," she said as the carriage pulled to a halt in front of the Kirkpatrick house. The door flung open and the Lord Rutherford stood there holding a hand out. One which Sally pushed aside as she started to get out of the carriage. Once out she looked back at Millicent who was sitting there still and not looking in the womans direction. Turning her attention back before her she made her way towards the front door. "Where is that bumbling nephew of mine.



One Ship Moving: Silvio rose both his brows as he looked between the two of them, noting that Fyror was not looking at him as he spoke but at the lady. "Oh oh oh, that is something else," he said as he poured himself something to drink and sat down between the two of them at the table. Taking a long drink from his cup, he had to ask. "How do you know such things? If he is so terrible, why allow for a marriage?" he asked, seemingly intrigued by the situation.

Regalia eyed Vlad and nodded slightly as she poured him another glass. "Вы были бы удивлены," she said as she leaned back in her chair. She was half hoping that he would have let Ludwig do the explaining. The man, while all over the place, had a way about him that made things sink in slower and not be as hard to take as others did. Especially Regalia. While she was a gracious host and had a charm about her, she was a ships captain and being blunt most of the time saved lives. Granted, that might not be the case currently. Taking a sip of her wine she looked at him for a moment, studying him over the rim of her glass and then shrugged.

Setting the goblet down on the table she began to explain. As she did, her hand moved to the hilt of her sword as if she was preparing to defend herself. "Проще говоря, я мертв. Как и вся моя команда. Мы жили однажды. Некоторые любят меня очень давно, другие совсем недавно. Что у всех нас общего, что общего у La Canela, так это то, что мы хотим жить снова, но не хотим вернуться к жизни, которую мы когда-то знали. Мы не бездушны, мы бьем сердцами, наша кровь течет, мы все еще можем умереть снова обычными средствами. Мы просто умерли из-за глубоких вод. Однажды мы проснулись в La Canela и стали такими. Вторая жизнь, если хотите, для тех, кто столкнулся со смертью и отбил его. Мы не выиграем войну против смерти, но мы выиграли одну битву."

Down below there was a snore and cough from the hammock above Constantine, it was Ludwig. Napping away as if he had not a care in the world. Peaking over the edge, staring strait at the Russian was Dieter, the ferret not the brother. Tilting his head side to side as he watched Constantine wake up. There were hammocks swinging this way and that, several had men in them sleeping, most were empty. Barrels were around, some filled with fresh water, others mostly empty that looked to once hold different foods. It was quiet down there and a staircase wasn't too far away that lead up to the main deck.

Carlisle: She had asked him to speak and so he did... In length. "Oh yes. Parthenos, I wish I could. Intriguing. Two sisters I know of, or so they say. Much is not known of her save that after a wine casket broke her and one sister flung themselves off a cliff to avoid their fathers wrath.

What a world but the again, back in those days dear Zeus was sticking his own carved wood into anything and everything he could. How many troubles would the ancients have avoided had Zeus kept it in his tunic? No, Zeus, don't fuck that! Too late! Yes, right off the cliff she flung herself but oh my the gods were not having that. least one. Apollo. Not for them of course, he loved their sister but they became goddesses because of this love. How about that? Imagine getting married and as a wedding gift your brother was turned into a god? Not bad," he laughed as he walked.

"Parthenos was given a city though after being saved. Bubastis."

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Fyror searched Miss Fontaine's countenance for any sign of wavering, any sign that this newfound knowledge was too much for her. However, she seemed to be as determined as ever, if not more so, to see this through to the bitter end. A part of him admired her for her courage, but a bigger part of him still had a gnawing sense of worry that she was going to get herself hurt, if not killed. The only life he was willing to risk in this endeavor was his own. His conscience couldn't bear anything more than that.

He nodded his head absentmindedly, as he took a few more bites of his food. He lifted his gaze from his plate as Silvio came over, sitting down with them before asking more questions. Fyror closed his eyes for a moment. With a sinking feeling, he knew that he was going to have recount the graphic details of that autopsy report that Dr. Graham had shown him. That report still haunted him. The details of the torture that Rutherford's previous wife had endured were perhaps forever etched into his brain, and the thought of the same happening to Millicent made him feel sick to his stomach.

Shifting in his seat, he seemed visibly uncomfortable as his gaze flitted between Silvio and Colette. He let out a shaky exhale, before finding his voice again. "I--after Miss Wyndham's engagement to Lord Rutherford became public knowledge, I was pulled aside by a good Samaritan, a Dr. Graham. Out of concern for Miss Wyndham's safety, he showed me an autopsy report detailing the months worth of torture Rutherford's previous wife had endured before her death," he explained, a look of pain flickering through his eyes. "It--it was horrible. Burns. Lacerations. Damage from near drownings. And the sexual abuse the woman endured--"

He had to grip the edge of the table to stop the shaking in his hands. Pain seemed to turn to anger in his eyes. "I don't know what he has on her. All I know is that, one way or another, this has to end," he remarked through clenched teeth.

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The Great Bazhooli leaned forward to grasp the goblet upon the desk before him. He listened intently as Captain Montoya began to speak, fully intrigued by the story that she wove, brief though it was. It did not have to be a long speech to get the important points across, however. Details seemed to melt away as one solid, immutable point was expressed, and it was significant. Very, very significant. Such an assertion was reckless in front of a total stranger (and with the exception of the studious Mr. Zimmer, Vladimir was the strangest person he himself knew), especially one who was armed and had demonstrated considerable physical capability. Then again, he had also demonstrated a propensity for slamming his face into things, so it could be argued that the Captain felt as safe as she could be. In fairness, the fact that her hand moved toward a weapon did seem to indicate otherwise.

The wine goblet hovered near the experienced Russian's lips. A tiny thought that this might be especially bad for his health, situation being what it was, crossed his mind. After a tiny pause, he took that sip anyway. One glass was already down. If this woman had wanted to poison or drug him, she already had plenty of opportunity. The wine was safe, he surmised. His single sip deepened into a hearty gulp, after which Vlad set the goblet back down upon the desk again. After that story, there was something he needed to see for himself.

Vladimir gave the Captain a small, comforting smile and crossed his arms in front of him. Such an action could be taken as a non-threatening gesture, but in truth it surreptitiously brought him within quick grasp of several of his beloved knives. He leaned forward, letting his eyes lock with hers, and opened himself to the Trained skill of the Chteniye Dushi. To anyone observing him, it only looked like he was holding her gaze. But to Vlad's perception, he was peering deeply into the ethereal qualities of what made her, her. After but a moment of this, The Great Bazhooli exhaled a soft breath and sat back in his chair. "Let us be plain, please." His grasp on the English language seemed much improved from the last time he used it, just before their conversation took a more serious note. Vladimir's voice was solid but soft, even reassuring. "Я изучил истинную твою сущность, Регалии. Это навык, которым мои люди овладели веками и прошлыми поколениями. Нельзя читать Душу, которой там нет. Вы, Капитан, чисты и честны, как любой мужчина или женщина, которых я встречал. Я ставлю свою жизнь на это."

"HA!" Vladimir laughed, breaking the tension as he snatched up his goblet, "Now, ve may celebrate. Vill make vith particulars... later."

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Millicent seemed to have some bite in her still. Regardless, William found his mind wandering. He was out of his natural habitat, not just literally in the carriage, but also in the whole situation. He always yearned for the thrill of a good story, but now he was brushing shoulders with nobility, for what? The promise of payment from a man who was clearly not the most honourable? The opportunity to play at the marriage of that same man to a woman who was selling herself to save her family? He missed the freedom, the care-free life that he'd been enjoying since his father had passed, travelling from town to town, not being tied to anyone or anything.

And yet here he was, trapped within this web of problems. He'd waded in too deep for him to turn around and try and clamber out now. He had to push on. But he was out of his depth, and he knew that the skills that he did have weren't suited to these basic pleasantries. Give him a Soulless to kill, and he'd throw himself into it, give him a violin to play, and he'd never feel more alive, but this? It felt slow, every move he made seemed to be the wrong one. Maybe if his mother had survived, he might have been better at this, but he'd grown up a wanderer. He had enough charm to seduce a barmaid, he had enough charm to at least fit in among the gentry, but in situations like this, he was like a blunt knife.

The door of the carriage being pulled open dragged William out of his own thoughts, and he turned to see Rutherford standing in the doorway. He'd not even noticed them stopping moving, but clearly they had arrived. Lady Kirkpatrick was the first out, ignoring the hand offered by Rutherford. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the carriage, and with neither Millicent or the other woman making any move, William clambered out of the carriage next, relieved by the fresh air he gulped down. Lady Kirkpatrick was already moving towards the front door of the impressive house, but William wasn't in any rush. He simply enjoyed the wind he could feel on his face.

Constantin took a few deep breaths as he recalled the incredible dream... incredibly crazy dream that is! He rubbed his eyes, heading the sound from the sleeping Ludwig. Yeah it was a dream after all... if it wasn't, there would been a mostly naked Veta in it and flying fish... or all the singing animals either. It was a good dream though, despite getting killed at the end, under really weird conditions. He didn't mind dying for Vlad and Veta, but being killed by either rabdomly wasn't going to leave a good aftertaste. At least he could find solace in the fact Vlad killed the entire crew to presumably keep him and them silent about all the singing chests filled with booty.

With a final sigh, he turned his head up and to the side, noticing someone watching him... the ferret! The fire walker replied in kind with staring emotionlessly at the animal too. It appeared as a smart thing."Hello, had a nice dream too? I did... I vonder hov in heck, you and your master didn't appear in the dream either." He said to it and shook his head. What was he doing? Talking with a ferret. Well the ferret made for a good chatting buddy. It didn't cause big noises. It wasn't as tiring to keep up with as his leader and it certainly wasn't as tiring as trying to guess the thread of logic the German was operating on.

Taking a final deep breath he stood up and walked for the stairs leading to the main deck. With somewhat of renewed vigor, he walked up the staircase." Alright... let's see vhere ve at... There better be no flying fishies." He mumbled as he did so and found himself on the main deck.

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Virginia listened to his words, absorbing the information diligently. Some of those stories were dismissed as just myth and legend, but she was raised to always be open to them. More often than not, they contained some piece of truth. Some of them were made up, of course, yet there were always going to be frauds. This tale she felt in her soul to be true. The legend reminded her of Millicent in many ways. She wished to save her sisters from the men of this society - yet Virginia could not help but wonder if there was a cliff suitable for Millicent to fling herself and Emma off of, in order to escape a fate so cruel...

"Where is Bubastis? Does it still stand?" Virginia inquired as they walked. It was a bit disappointing to hear that not much was known about her after she became a goddess, but that was the way with myths. They always left Virginia wanting to learn more. Perhaps she could visit Bubastis if she had the opportunity. The name struck her as odd, but Europe was a strange place and she truthfully had little idea based on the name where it would be located.

Mary would have enjoyed this talk about myths and legends and gods, Virginia realized a bit sadly.

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Maeve was a bit shocked by Millicent's outburst - yet she also felt incredibly disappointed by it. With the pride and fury in Millicent's voice, she had expected more than that. Insults and such were fun, but attacking Lady Kirkpatrick's dryness was terribly obvious. There weren't any points for creativity being afforded by Maeve to her. And certainly, Maeve could understand making sacrifices for another... but sacrifices were only worthy if they were effective. She hoped for her sister's sake, the sacrifice would be.

"Lady Kirkpatrick might be able ter 'elp you more than a marriage could - might be useful informashun for ya," Maeve told Millicent quietly, before she got down from the carriage and walked after her employer. She didn't dare look up to see the body of Calum on the roof. The fantasies that perhaps they could have had something romantic between them had to be forgotten and buried. She needed to remember that she was here for Roisin, not to find true love or anything like that.

At any rate, she was back on the clock so to speak. She had her own job to take care of.

Kirkpatrick House: Millicent's eyes went to Maeve and she sat there stone cold for a moment before replying. "Better the devil I know." Her words were under her breath and quiet as she sat there. Rutherford stood there and quirked a brow as he watched people climb out of the carriage. Millicent looked down at the floor of the carriage, gripping the edge of the seat before a hand came into her view. It was Rutherfords and he was looking at her rather impatiently. She swallowed and took his hand, letting him help her out.

Inside Lady Kirkpatrick was already heading to the stairs that lead up to her quarters. Her nephew had come out of the drawing room and was standing there looking rather confused as Lord Egerton waltzed right through the door. "This is an unexpected surprise," he said as he moved over to the man and shook his hand. "What brings you here?"

"To refresh if you don't mind, among other things," Egerton said with a scowl.

"One of which would be tending to the dead, send a messenger to the church, we have an attack that must be reported." The Lady's words were short before she glanced back at Maeve. "DO fill them in, I do not know if I can speak incompetent right now." It seemed that the Lady of the house was not going to bother trying to dumb herself down to get the point across or to retell a tale she had no want to. Her feet moving up the stairs quietly but her cane was anything but. It pounding hard with each and every thud against the hardwood.

Thomas was the one that was bewildered that was for sure as he looked towards his aunt and then back at Lord Egerton. "What in blue blazes is going on?" he asked.

Rutherford looked down at Millicent as she stood there, placing a finger under her chin and lifting her head a bit. "You need to fix your makeup, quick," he said in a short voice. "Then we need to leave and get this over with, don't you agree?" he said from between gritted teeth. Millicent looked up at him and could feel her body shaking. There was a nod from her before she was lead towards the house. It had barely been two hours since they left Port Annan and a lot had already happened, even more the last two days. It was all a whirl wind but she kept to her feet as the carriage driver began to start taking the bodies off of the top of the carriage and lay them down on the ground next to it.



One Ship Moving: Silvio listened to what the man had to say. Rocking back and forth on the back two legs of the chair he sat in as he sipped from his cup. he coughed slightly as he took a drink and set the cup down as he wiped away the beads of wine that flung to his face. "That sounds horrific, tis a good thing you were approached by someone you can trust," he said before getting up and grabbing a linen to pat dry his top. His back remaining to the two of them for a moment before turning back to them. "She must be very dear to you to go on this crusade to save her. Is she known for making such horrible decisions?" he asked as he sat back down and refilled his glass.

Regalia chuckled a bit as he spoke and she shrugged. "Что ж, приятно знать, что ты можешь сказать, что я не один из них. Как бы забавно ни было скрестить с тобой лезвия, я сомневаюсь, что мне было бы слишком страшно, если бы мне пришлось потушить этот огонь в тебе," she said with a bit of a laugh before downing the rest of her wine. "Что касается того, какие меры необходимо принять, мои люди останавливаются на море, когда это возможно. Мы не делаем добро на земле. В любой жизни."

On the main deck, things were calm. Hazel was sitting down on a crate. Knotting, unknotting, and reknotting a rope. Looking up she spotted Constantin and kept knotting the rope without looking at it. "The loud ones with the Captain," she said pointing towards the door to Captains quarters. "The pair is in there," she said pointing in the other direction towards the kitchen. "Try not to break a nose or a mast," she added with a chuckle before she heard a whistle. Looking up at the wheel she nodded and set the rope down before she began to climb the main mast to the crows nest.

Regalia's head turned towards the door as she heard the loud whistle. "Seems we are approaching the shore," she said as she stood up and corked the bottle of wine. Hazel took post in the crows nest and whistled back as the crew started to prepare to lower the sails and go through the motions so they could dock soon.

Carlisle: "Ha, good question indeed," Ny said as he kept walking. They were at the edge of the town on the north side now. Things were moving slowly as they were on foot. Off in the distance was a carriage post. "It could be but not have I visited so far south in some time. Sands never do well for old men," he chuckled. "At least that is what they say. Never seen it but it is spoken of that is resides far outside of the reach of the gods. At least their gods. Far in the lands of other gods. Though I think they are all just the same, wandering around and playing games. A good game is such fun, especially if you can pull the wool over ones eyes. People are so quick to leave it in place."

Stopping his stride he looked at the carriage post that was closer and noted several there milling about. There was a carriage or two and many horses. "Ah yes, perhaps we can save our shoes? How well can you play the weak maiden? And I play the old man? Far stretch for me I know but I shall try. Let them take pity on us," he chuckled and nodded in the direction of the post. If they could secure a carriage ride, they could cover more ground far more swiftly than if they continued to walk.

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Colette listened, intently now, to Fyror recount why he was on this adventure and it solidified her own concerns about Lord Rutherford. The man was truly an abomination on foot. She'd rather deal with the Soulless at every turn then to have to speak to him again. And it only made sense to ensure Millicent was safe and continued to be such. It would only be a matter of time before she followed suit after Rutherford's previous wife.

Colette was a bit angry at Silvio's comment until she remembered he was both a pirate and a man. He most likely was not aware of how things were done. "I would wager Lady Millicent had no choice in the matter. If Lord Rutherford is as horrid as Monsieur Kildragon described, and I have met the man and have my own thoughts on him, then Lady Millicent most likely entered this engagement for another reason and it stands to reason it was not because she is desperately in love with him. You will find that women often do not have the luxury of choice in their betrothed as I know all too well."

"She is in danger if this continues and the reason I am here is for her safety. I will not sit idly by as yet another woman enters a marriage she will not leave unless it is through a casket."

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The words of the good Captain brought a smile to Vladimir's face, genuine and warm. The concept of being in a contest of sharp and pointy implements, regardless of the stakes involved, sounded like just the kind of thing that would bring out the best and most flamboyant in the enigmatic performer known to mere mortals throughout the ages as "The Great Bazhooli". Just the thought of it got his blood moving in his limbs, almost aching for a moment of physical action. But this was not the place, time, nor person with which to engage in such a struggle. Friendly or hostile intentions notwithstanding, his little envoy of their alliance had a task to perform.

As Regalia rose and stoppered the bottle of wine, Vladimir rose as well. Her announcement that they were approaching the shore was both positive and depressing for the colorful man; it meant that they could continue upon their mission for Veta, Mary, and Virginia, and hopefully figure out where they place in the questionable nuptials that were going to transpire. However, this meant that his time with La Canela, and specifically with Captain Montoya, was coming to a close. He was really beginning to enjoy himself. Ever the optimist, Vladimir pushed forward, outwardly undaunted. "Spasibo, Captain. Thanking you for the hospitality of La Canela. Russian Imperial Circus and Bazhooli Sem'ya owe you a debt. But I am having qvestions; three of them - Is this meaning you are joining into Alliance vith us? And vhether yes or no, how vould ve find you again? Lastly, Captain... is there anything my peoples can do for yours?"

Vlad lowered himself into a gracious bow, motioning with his hand as if he were sweeping his hat from his head and tucking it underneath. He was, of course, without the necessary hat to make the motion more productive. It was the idea behind the action that was supposed to demonstrate, one of respect and treating another as a peer. Vladimir was commodore of his own fleet, as it were, except that his ships had oxen and horses to pull them, and wheels to ride upon. His ships scoured the land and thoroughfares of the Czar's Empire, and now the routes of Europe. When his fleet came to port, it was to encircle great cooking fires and host music, lights, and the protection of a people secretly trained to destroy the enemies of the living. "Ludvig talked ov your people as 'Circus of the Seas', if memory is correct. Is true, in your own vays. Your people vill have friends on the land, if you are needing us."

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William couldn't help but feel he'd slipped through the cracks. But he wasn't complaining. Lady Kirkpatrick had already dissapeared inside the house, Lord Egerton confidently following after her. Millicent eventually took Rutherford's hand, and the engaged couple moved towards the house as well. No-one was particularly paying William any attention, but if anything, he preferred it this way. He'd entertained at enough parties to be used to just being part of the furniture. Humming slightly, William turned back to the carriage in time to see that the driver was beginning the task of unloading the two bodies strapped to the roof. Still humming some half-forgotten tune, William decided that he may as well make himself useful.

Half clambering onto the carriage itself, William began to help the driver with his task. As he worked, he looked at the two bodies properly for the first time. The first man that they lowered from the carriage roof had an ugly gunshot wound in his chest, and William hardly needed to be a doctor to know that was what had killed him. The blood that stained the man's mouth was enough to show that his lungs had been torn open, even if the gaping wound wasn't. At least it looked quick, he probably never even knew what hit him.

The second body they unloaded was a different story. He recognized the body as the one that had caused Rutherford such issues, but looking at it properly, he could see that he was a bloody mess. He'd clearly been torn at by one of the Ryne's, and William could only hope that he'd managed to take the creature down with him. Laying the two bodies down on the ground, and seeing that the rest of the party had already moved on, William found himself turning to the carriage driver himself for the first time.

"So, how did you come into the employ of their Lordships?"

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Fyror looked over at Silvio and gave the man a curt nod of agreement as he tried to rein in the flames coiling within his being. The topic of discussion was a double-edged sword for him, painful on one end and enraging on the other. He took in a calming breath, as he slowly released his grip on the edge of the table. His brows drew together slightly in consideration of the comment that Millicent must be very dear to him. However, he had little chance to ponder what truly lied at the heart of his intentions when the man's open slight against Millicent jolted through him like lightning.

His head swung back around, jaw clenching and the amber of his one good eye piercing. Had the man not just insinuated that Millicent was dear to him, and yet the man felt the need to immediately follow that with a blatant insult to her intelligence? His eyes narrowed a touch. The utter disrespect and lack of propriety got under his skin. Fortunately, Miss Fontaine spoke up with her words of wisdom. Fyror simmered down as he listened to Colette explain the likely reasoning behind Millicent's choices. He found himself nodding his head in agreement, taking particular note of the fact that she implied that she spoke from experience. His gaze turned sharply towards the door to the kitchen as he heard a sharp whistle outside.

Constanitin had a really firm pokerface as the woman talked to him. He nodded and then sighed and nodded again." Thank you for the information." He said and threw a look towards the captain's cabin. So Vlad was still there! Well that was good, meant the captain and his leader was getting along just fine. Otherwise one of them would probably have killed the othr or something. With a persona like the Great Bazhooli, you either liked him or wanted to punch him. At least that's how Constantin viewd things. Vlad's character was too grand for any middleground! The fire walker was firmly in camp 'like him'." Let's hope not, my nose still hasn't healed..." He added another mumble as the woman climbed upwards.

The firewalker gazed at her for a lil and then looked away and towards the sealine. There was the usual boundless surface of the water all around, but then his eyes spotted it! Land! There was a port at one direction, so they were indeed close to Mother Earth now! He cold see the place wasn't overly big, but had a few ships there. He looked back to the Hazel woman and she was already all the way to the top! That one had impressive climbing skills and he was seriously wondering how Ludwig managed to get up there earlier too.

"Hey, do you know what that place is!?" Constantin called out to the woman that was currently way up high over there on the lookout of the mast or however it was called. He wasn't really aware of the naval terms, he was a firewalker! Naval and ship knowledge wasn't in his competence.

Kirkpatrick House: The driver looked over at William, a bit confused it seemed for the moment as to what the man who had ridden inside the carriage was doing. Once he figured out that William was in fact there to help and not just watch him he seemed a even more so yet he didn't say anything about it. Simply giving the man a nod and a quick. "Hey, thank ya lad," to him as the shuffled the bodies of the recently deceased Rory and Father Fuddles from the top of the carriage to the soft patch of grass near the drive.

Taking his hat off he wiped his nearly fully bald head with a worn handkerchief and shrugged a bit. "Not so much in their employ sir. Just the carriage driver for the post in Port Annan. Got hired to bring ya out here not ten minutes before we left," he said before blowing his nose and shoving the scrape of fabric back into his pocket. Looking at the bodies he sighed a bit before sitting down on the step that lead up into the carriage itself. "Hired to bring you all here and then to Gretna Green. After that I go to the carriage post there and wait for another hire for the night. If nothing I go back to Port Annan in the morning." He looked a bit weary, granted could one blame him? He had been hired to drive a carriage, not move dead bodies about. Looking up at William he pulled out a flask and took a drink from it before holding it out to the man. "What about you? Take it you ain't a Lord and you surly ain't a Lady."

~will update inside after Maeves next update~



One Ship Moving: Silvio held up his hands in defeat but he was still chuckling. "I yield, wasn't meaning anything against her. Was wondering if your information was from a trustworthy source. But if you know the man and trust his information, then yes it sounds like she is in a bit of trouble," he said as he stood up and pushed his chair under the table. He was still chuckling to himself as he walked passed Fyror. "Good luck mate, sounds like yer gonna need it," he said as he moved around him and out of the door from the kitchen and onto the main deck.

Hazel looked down at Constantin as he asked what city that was. "It be Port Annan, we'll make dock in less than the time it takes to brew a decent cup of tea I'd wager," she said before she looked back out over the water. Resting her hands on the railing of the crows nest as her red hair whipped in the wind.

Regalia looked over towards Vlad as she came out form behind her desk and reached into her pocket. Pulling out a large golden coin she handed it over. It was intricately molded with a skull on it and swirls around it, there were two ropes in the molded gold as well, looking oddly knotted. "Come to any port and seek us out. Should you be approached and asked if the dead can live again, simply show this. They will know you are a friend and will aide you," she told him before stepped out of the cabin and onto the main deck.

"Bis le ka apriete ti' le muelle," she yelled to the crew as she moved up to the wheel and stood beside Marco. The screw got to work sailing the ship into port.

Carlisle: ~will update after Virginia's next update~