March 22nd, 1823
Port Annan, Scotland
Teriny Inn: "Sure thing Lass," Nigel said as he stepped behind the bar counter. It was Saturday mid morning, so breakfast ran a tad later and brunch being served was a Sunday ordeal in the inn. He wasn't sure if she had filled up last night or had a hunger this morning. It was best to ask. "He said he shouldn't be long. I's can get you some breakfast from the kitchen if you are hungry. We have some hard boiled eggs, and salted pork - a bit cold right now. Or the missus' could whip you up a bowl of steel cut if ya's like with some fruit on it," he offered her as he flung the rag he had been holding over his shoulder and left it there for now.
"Though the parson would probably recommend one of the pastries, it really doesn't stick with you for a long time," he said before patting the girth of his mid section. "Other than where you don't want it to," he laughed. "Surprised there are any left after the way he tore into them this mornin', more surprised he isn't the width of a barn. Guess what god didn't bless him with coordination he blessed him with the ability to stay rail thin."
London, England
The Glimmeric: Outside, what should have been a quiet and calm morning in this area had been altered to something gone very wrong with the scream that echoed out. The street was slowly starting to come to life as people poked their heads out their windows where they lived above the stores and establishments or just plain wandering out cautiously to see what was going on. Two doors down and across the street from the Glimmeric a woman came running towards the brothel. The girl was younger, perhaps in her early twenties. She worked at the Glimmeric and had for the last few months. Sarah Ann was sweet girl who was rather naive about things but that seemed to play in her favor among the patrons. That, along with her slight curves, curls of blonde, hazel eyes, and freckles. Some enjoyed that young innocent look and attitude.
"Madam Warwick!" she yelled out, gathering the folds of her dress and trying to keep her shawl on her shoulders. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. Her face flush and her eyes filled with worry. The basket she had been carrying felling from her hand as she pointed back down the street. There laying face up on the side walk was an older gentleman in rich clothing. His complexion looked as if he had been drained of not only life but blood as well. There was something familiar about the man, very familiar. "It's Lord Galloway!"
Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park): The wonderful thing about Tretiy Glaz was that it could give someone a glance into the future and perhaps help someone determine something important. The bad thing about Tretiy Glaz, it rarely ever went off when it could be immediately useful. Like it would have been wonderful for Constanin or Vlad to have a sudden vision of the whereabouts of the Grand Duchess but apparently whatever force drove the Tretiy Glaz, it was asleep right then. (Oh well at leas the rolls weren't a 1 lol, could have been worse.)
The rest of the circus was now more than awake with the bellowing of the Great Bazhooli. People stumbling quickly out of their tents as the Sister kept rushing around. Though the scream did let people know one thing... If Veta had been within earshot she would have most definitely heard that and come running. (One did not just ignore Vlad when he yelled, at least not Veta.) - As Vlad started to search the outskirts of the tent city, it seemed there was no sign of Veta yet but the fog was thick, making it hard to see even ones own feet in the ground. Within the tent city it was not as thick but still made things difficult if one was not careful. The further one got from the center and towards the north, it became like pea soup.
Wyndham Manor: Abigail turned around and looked over to Gerard. She looked worried as she pulled at her fingers. "Mr. Gerard, have you seen Miss Milli? I ain't been spotting a hair on her head since last night. She ain't in the house. Did she sneaks out here that's you knows of?" she asked. There was no sign that Milli had been out and if she wasn't on her favorite bench in the garden or sitting there reading to Artemis, chances were she wasn't there.
Had she really stayed at the hospital the entire evening with Mrs. Wyndham? It wouldn't have been unlike Millicent to stay with an injured family member. Maybe with the condition she had been in when she left the hospital the night before the staff had insisted she become a patient instead of a visitor. Yet if they thought Millicent had been driven mad from her lack of speaking... That would mean she could have been shipped off to London's Bedlam... The horror's of England's oldest and most cruel insane asylum were known far and wide.
St. Etheldreda's: The boy did not take notice of Mary when she first walked up to him and explained just where he was, why, and so forth. He just stared blankly forward before letting out a gasping breath and falling to his knees. Shaking his head for a moment before pressing his palm to his temple. Turning he finally looked over to the young Sister. "Oh, Sister Mary, where did you come from?" he asked her, confused as he did not seem to notice that she had even been speaking to him.
"Sister, you are up. Good morning to you, such a blessed day is it not. There are messages waiting for you," one of the elderly nuns said in a bright voice as she came over towards the two. "I would have delivered them sooner, I was..." she said pausing for a moment. "For the life of me I cannot remember why I was held up from informing you. Do forgive me. Perhaps senility has finally set in."
Crypt Manor: The gardener looked very ill as he stood there outside looking at the manor itself and the garden. It was horrible, all his hard work was dead. Sure the Crypts liked dead things but they paid him to keep the garden going, not to let it die. Centuries of historic ivy was now dry brittle kindling that would need to be stripped from the sides of the home before it rotted away and caused damage to the actual structure of the manor. It was going to be a lot of work, that was even if he got to keep his job.
Shaking his head he took off his hat and pulled at it a minute while he stared at the single globe thistle. This was a bad omen in his mind, more than a bad one. The dead plants and ivy would take days to remove but he could at least rid the family of the newest eye sore - The Globe Thistle had to go. Slapping his hat back on his head he stormed over to it and ripped it out by its roots. Going over to one of the oil burning lamps on the property he set it on fire and tossed it onto the stone cut pathway that circled the front garden area of the house as he watched it burn to ash. It was the only dead plant on the property he was glad about currently.
