This was not a Golgravtiz!? What the hell was this? Constantin had never heard or seen anything similar to this abomination that was above them! This was so unnatural so.. twisted! Did it possess a multitude of soulless abilities too?! He couldn't confirm nor deny the possibility. Especially how it appeared to cause changes in the ice and the fog. It's smile caused him to feel weird... This was a danger and Constantin knew it. Where did this abomination come from?
Suddenly he saw Veta's body fall as the creature just left. She fell into the water!
“VETA!” Constantin shouted as she moved over on the ice, hurrying towards the place where she started to sink!” NO! NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, DEVILS TAKE YOU, ABOMINATION!!” He shouted, hurrying to move over to where the ice was closing up with the duchess's body sinking.
Why did it have to be water? He couldn't swim... What could he do in this situation? Maybe... Myska? Animals could swim! He has seen many an animal swim before!” VLAD, WE NEED TO FREE MYSKA! A TIGER SHOULD SWIM! I cannot swim after Veta, but Myska should be able to!”
Thalken melded into the shadows of the docks as the sounds of the constables grew louder and louder. He tried to put as much distance from the docks as he possibly could in a short amount of time. All the while, he maintained a light-footedness that helped him evade detection. It had become habitual really, as he had plenty of opportunities to practice it over the years. As a bounty hunter, the goal was to make the kill and then to get the heck out of there. After all, to be caught basically meant game over. What a screwed up world he called his life. He would like to profess that he was dragged into it all, but that wouldn't be a valid statement. There was a time when he dove headfirst into the darkness and embraced it wholeheartedly. It took his mother being cruelly ripped from his life for him to see the err of his ways. Unfortunately, he was already in too deep to simply back out unscathed.
He let out a small sigh of relief when he had put the docks and the constables behind him. He was now coming up to the rows of large buildings that made up the Adelphi area. Thalken knew that the Royal Society of the Arts and the Adelphi Theatre were also located nearby. The latter in particular was one of the many places that his father Beowulf and his uncles Lycus and Arend liked to use for their underworld dealings. While the ton was inside enjoying a show or after party, the Talink family was plotting someone's demise. Some poor unfortunate soul was sure to die in the nearby alleyways. He could vividly picture one such occasion. All the hunts and kills used to meld together, but after his mother's death, he could seemingly picture every last detail. Truth be told, he was haunted by the blood that was on his hands.
Fyror's brows furrowed in that characteristic way of his, as he watched Dr. Graham closely. There was a tension about the young soldier, one that tended to make his harsh features more pronounced. What was this all about? What did the doctor so urgently want to speak to him about? Well, he was sure to find out soon enough, but he definitely wouldn't like one bit of it. He flinched slightly when the apparent topic of conversation was Lord Rutherford. He looked away, opting to stare at the wall for a moment. Why did that wretched man get under his skin so easily? Maybe it was just that, Fyror could sense the man's wretchedness and it rubbed him the wrong way. And Millicent. There was something about her that he adored, but Lord Rutherford had already set his sights on her. Fyror was left in the crosshairs, hurt, broken hearted, and wanting nothing more than to protect her honor.
He tried to school his expression before looking at Dr. Graham once more, but there was emotion still clearly written on his face. Granted, his emotions were too jumbled to really decipher one from the next. Did Dr. Graham see that he had affection for Millicent and wish to reprimand him for it? The mere thought was appalling! Of all the things he could possibly be accused of, dishonor was the most abhorrent! He relaxed some though when Dr. Graham did not accuse him of such. No, the doctor was also concerned about Millicent's engagement with Lord Rutherford. But why? His heart sank into his stomach and his blood ran cold as Dr. Graham stated the truth of Lord Rutherford's past. Fyror was not entirely familiar with the rumors of London, seeing as he lived outside the city, so this was news to him. His breaths came in and out sharper, nostrils flaring slightly, and his muscles tensed more. "Millicent is in grave danger then. What must I do to protect her?" he replied. There was really no question as to whether or not he would help someone out. The answer would be more often than not yes. That's just the type of person he was.
The Strand: The Adelphi was was right on the Strand, and it was a hop skip and a jump over the main road that was the name sake for said area. Down a couple more streets and there Thalken would be in the main lower end. Thing was, it wasn't exactly lower end. It was just considered the lower area of the Strand near Pall Mall - considering Buckingham Palace was just a short walk from there everything was lower end. This was the more merchant and servant area. Mid-scale clothing shops, merchants, butcher, and of course the Glimmeric. London's premiere Brothel. Sure there were other Brothels in the city but this one catered to the more upper class. Many a woman had gone from high priced whore to a taken care of Mistress by a patron.
Two blocks down from the Glimmeric was an alleyway that came from the south side of the area and broke onto the street. It was an ideal place to keep watch. One could see down the street from one end to the other and still remain in the shadows. Looking down to the west one could see a small crowd of people, the owner of the Glimmeric, and the local butcher. Not to mention one dead Lord Galloway, who had just last night escaped the Soulless attack on Almack's. One however couldn't see how he died from this vantage point yet it was in the very spot the pool of blood had been in back near the docks.
Westminster Hospital: Dr. Graham nodded as he pulled a file out from his drawer and set it down on the desk in front of Fyror, he kept his hand on it for a moment as he looked at the young soldier. "Yes, and more than you can know. Please, brace yourself should you chose to look at what is contained in this file. It is not for the faint of heart," he warned before removing his hand and stepping behind his desk. Sitting down once again he waited to see if Fyror would take a look at the file with the name Annabell Rutherford written in script on the front.
What was contained within could only confirm ones worst nightmares. It was an autopsy report done by Dr. Graham himself. Within the file was a hand drawn record of the wounds on the body when it was found. Listed out were 8 broken ribs, a broken clavicle, compound fracture on the fibula, the right hand crushed, three broken vertebra, and a cracked skull. These wounds, while horrid in and of themselves could easily be chalked up to a bad fall down a large set of stairs or from a great height. Which on the copy of the death report listed - Death by Fall.
It was what else was in the report that truly showed the agony this woman must have gone through even before her death. The skin listing showed numerous burns which were in various states of healing. There was a notation of nearly six dozen lash marks and scars that must have spanned at least six months. Eyes showed the remains of several near drownings. The most heart wrenching notation in the file was the private feminine area mauling and damage.
Pulling his glasses from his face and tossing them onto the desk Dr. Graham swallowed the memories of the day he wrote that report. "She was once so bright and beautiful but within six months of their engagement she was married and dead. The money from her family went to Lord Rutherford. She was the eldest, her father had gone missing, all funds were left to her until she wed. I fear the same will happen to Miss Wyndham. I do not know your relation with the family but she seemed to feel safe with you last night. I have yet to be able to get the court to listen to my findings. He holds much information on so many in the House of Lords they dare not cross him. If Miss Wyndham marries him..." he said, his words trailing off at the end. There was no need to complete that sentence.
"What can do you? Other than kill him? I know not..."
Fal'shbort - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian!
Tretiy Glaz - An ability that gives a person a sixth sense into the future. Unpredictable and random.
Location: (Outside of) Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park)
Vladimir wanted to hurl his knives at the foul thing as it retreated. He wanted to crush the unlife from it with his bare hands. He wanted to do so many hurtful things, but the Beast had put his Elizaveta into immediate, mortal peril. The experienced Russian knew that he could not plow through the ice and hope that his superior Cossack-ness would save the both of them, though he did not fully rule out the possibility. However, he knew that Veta did not have the luxury of his "maybe". There was only one of them present that stood any realistic possibility of saving her.
As it turned out, Contstantin came to the same conclusion that he did. As the younger performer called out to him, telling him to try freeing the tiger from his icy Bastille, Vladimir was already on his way. Scrambling across the ice, the frenzied Impalement Artist began frantically attacking the ice around Myshka; at first with the blade in his hand and then with his fists, trying his damnedest to dislodge the powerful beast from the surface of the unnaturally frozen lake. As he worked, he could be heard continually and urgently saying things like, "Get Veta, please get Veta back, Myshka. You do this, good kitty. Come on, ve get you out..."
There was righteous pride in him, Vladimir realized, as he came through the fog in the first place. He had expected one of the more common Soulless from his homeland, something with which he was familiar. But this thing was not Golgravitz. He could only wish that his error hadn't indirectly killed Veta.
"Behold, I send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you." Location: St. Etheldreda's
Addressing Sister Lazarus's comments, Mary simply smiled and bowed her head to the wisdom of the elder Nun, saying, "You are correct of course, Sister. We have always been in the middle of a war for our souls. I fear this time, it shall be less metaphorical and more of a direct assault. Please take care of yourself. The world needs your precise hand and singular wit, still."
Considering the question of her letters, Mary responded with a more businesslike, "If it please you, I would ask that you copy the first letter with haste and return it immediately. Respectfully, Sister, I need to present this where I am traveling, and if God is willing, I shall depart in a quarter hour. The second letter is more of a personal communication between myself and His Holiness, but I have no objection if a copy is added to the archives. I can return for it later."
Mary looked back to Adam. He seemed restless, as a little boy might when faced with a few indeterminate minutes of waiting in a boring room filled with papers and books, while grownups had grownup conversations about serious things. Mary marveled at the resilience of children. He had just been through an unexplained event, he was hearing directly that Soulless were on the prowl, and yet ere was this boy, anxious to see a lady who looked like a princess, who had visited him once in the infirmary. Something else was odd; Adam seemed to be cold. It wasn't the most pleasant morning, but this was an English summer. Mary peered inquisitively at him for a moment, tucking this new detail away in her memory. It might be that she had something else to discuss with the Grand Duchess.
The moment that Sister Lazarus finished with the message from the Grand Cross, Mary retrieved it and put it securely into her sporran bag. She politely thanked the elder Archivist and looked back to Adam, holding out her hand, "Come along then. Let us grab a little something from the kitchen and see where dear Sister Alma has gotten off to. You need to look your best if we are to be in the presence of the Grand Duchess this morning."
The Crypts purchased the house ages ago, as their dear friend's practice was nearby. He was an undertaker. Does that surprise you? It shouldn't. Alfred manages the household affairs, as the townhouse was originally used for attending events of the season, as well as to be present for public executions. Virginia takes a professional interest in them. That should hardly surprise you either.
Virginia nodded, listening to Peter's explanations. She would have imagined a soulless was responsible, yet she had never heard of any that would cause such a chill. A freeze, as Peter mentioned, was impossible. They would have both noticed it and it would have taken far longer. Then Virginia mused as to whether or not a human could be responsible for such destruction, yet once more, she found the chance to be slim. It would require technology beyond their time or training that did not yet exist.
"That is most curious," Virginia agreed. "Yet do not worry yourself so, dear Peter. It will do you no favors. Any mystery devised by mortal minds can be solved therewith. Those samples shall be a great help," Virginia added. Beyond the samples, her only large clue was the origin of the plant--the Banat. Either a soulless or a trained individual was responsible for the state of the garden, Virginia surmised. Yet it could not be either of the three soulless she knew of nor the skills from the countries that England sent their children to train in.
"I shall make some inquiries after the morning meal," Virginia informed Peter. "Once you have attained any samples you can find, as well as any other oddities, please do not hesitate to interrupt us." Virginia then gave Peter a kind nod before departing, heading through the manor until she reached James and Alfred. James was already seated at the table with Alfred standing by, causing Virginia to shake her head slightly.
"Will you not join us, dear Alfred?" Virginia requested.
"It would not be proper, my lady," Alfred said, politely declining. His main motivation was the fact that he figured on any given day, there was a decent chance that one of the Crypts had poisoned the food. Alfred had survived so long in the Crypt household for a reason, after all.
Location: Teriny Inn
Maeve attempted to stifle her laughter by covering her mouth and was largely successful with the parson's first fuddle of the day. However, by the time he fell straight to the floor, missing the chair entirely, she could not help but giggle slightly at his antics. If she had not observed his clumsiness the previous evening and knew it to be genuine, she perhaps would have entertained the notion that it was all an act. However, instead she could not help but ponder if the man was constantly bruised, with the way he flailed about all over the place.
"So'tiz indeed a blessed day...though I am not sure 'oy yer can discern dat from de floor," Maeve replied, smiling in spite of herself. She would have offered the man a hand to support himself with had she not been certain that it would only result in her falling to the floor as well. Maeve finished her breakfast and then turned her attention to Nigel. "Dat wus gran', really. Thank ye," Maeve said kindly. She doubted she'd ever get a chance to eat pineapple again in her life.
But of course, she did have the prospect of shopping for a new wardrobe to focus on. She had grown up in poverty and never had much of a chance to procure nice clothing. The nicest clothing the Brennan family owned were generally stolen from shops or deemed as "tribute" for protection. And if Maeve were to procure fine pieces of clothing, she would be tempted to get them for Roisin. The fact that her daughter would grow out of them in less than four months had stopped her before from spending the last of her money on a gown for dear Roisin.
The whole journey Gerard had to watch where he drives, Emma wont have the bumpy road ruin her meticulously fashioned hair. Gerard shakes his head at her every interjection, only responding with uncaring silence. Even at a time like this and with her own mother lying weak in the hospital, all this woman concerns about is snagging a husband. How selfish and dreadful he thought. Although knowing her own mother, it is imaginable that even in Mrs Wyndham's incapacitated state, she would've been the first to call for the nearest, well dressed lord in the hospital for her daughter.
It baffles him, how can someone find comfort in marrying somebody whom they solely base on status and wealth? As if other qualities arent as important to them. Are appearances really everything? Gerard has a pretty simple, basic perspective on this. He may not understand how essential it is to climb the social ladder for these people. He always thought it so odd and shallow, that he would rather marry happy and poor. Although it is the life that he's gotten used to. He wouldnt imagine or comprehend living like a lord.
Hitting another bump on the road, Emma let out another dismissive reminder to watch the bumps. In a normal day Gerard would have voiced out an apology yet today hasnt been exactly normal for him. With anxious worrying for Millicent and nightmares provides little to no sleep, Gerard was feeling a bit out of sorts. Adding that to the disaster from Almack's the night before, he frets over what to come. To know if Milli was ok would be enough to lighten his worrying. But for now, he keeps his focus on the road, off the bumps if he'd want to stop Emma's constant squabbles. How much longer still would it take them to get there?
Frances Warwick
Location: The Glimmeric;
Frances was looking a rather good distance away just enough to see the body from where it halted. She took another inspection, this time a step away from the body and giving it a good nudging of her boot. He was lying laxly enough to tell it was indeed a fresh kill. True enough the first few hours of death could tell a very obvious difference compared to something more recent, she decided to agree on Michaels account. Though what could he be doing in the last four hours before his death?
And Frances would want to know exactly where the body had exactly rolled from. It could tell them enough of what migh've happened. Sarah Ann could probably know though the girl has gone through enough than she can handle. From this standing point however Frances could not tell what caused this man's untimely demise other than his far from usual, washed out complexion. As if somebody had truly drained him of his blood. How strange. Could he had left a trail? That would be most convenient.
Stepping back a few distance away she thought it would be best to have a constable deal with the scene though the boy who was suppose to get one hasn't arrived yet. Frances wouldn't hold her breath on it, it will take quite awhile for a lawman to be found in this part of the Strand at this hour and if some do it would be an early morning rendezvous. Lord Galloway's death doesnt concern her one bit, the fact that he was last seen leaving the Glimmeric and found within the area was enough to make her want to go into it. Unaware of what was happening beyond the area, she thought this indeed concerned her business, one of the girls could be blamed for his death or someone, something bringing danger is running amuck the streets. She feels like she has a lot to to explain to the constables if it ever gets to that point.
Frances insisted Ruby to check on Sarah, the constable in charge would probably have things to ask her. The madam would stay outside with Micheal, until the constable arrives the scene.
Thalken travelled through the Adelphi area by means of its network of dark alleyways. His familiarity with them, coupled with the lessened congestion they provided made it a useful shortcut. Granted, most people avoided the dark recesses of the city such as those, as it's where crime abounds. But Thalken wasn't like most people. He had dealt with the darkness of this world long enough to no longer be afraid of it. In fact, sometimes the light was scarier to him.
He travelled through the alleyways as quickly as possible. Sure, he was brave enough to use them as a shortcut, but he wasn't dumb enough to linger in them for longer than necessary. One was just asking for trouble by lingering. He eventually was forced back into the open to cross over the main road in which Adelphi was named for. From the docks to the Strand, the area progressively changed from richer to poorer, titled to middle class. A couple more streets down he found himself in the main lower end.
He mentally recalled the layout of the bodies and how those corresponded with the layout of London. The point at which the pool of blood was placed puts it in the Strand a few blocks down from the Glimmeric. He was unfortunately familiar with London's premiere brothel, not because he used it for its intended purpose, by any means. No, his father invested money into the brothel, in return for getting to use it as a designated meeting place for his underworld dealings. On a few separate occasions, Thalken had dealt with the owner Frances, regarding business matters.
Thalken slipped into an alleyway that he knew would lead him to the spot in which he was looking for. He did not know what he was going to find, if there was going to be a body or if the murder had yet to take place. For all he knew, the murderer could be in that very spot waiting for the first person to put the puzzle together. He was prepared for anything, his hand already going for one of his knives. He halted in the cover of the shadows when he heard people up ahead. From where he was hidden, he could see down the alleyway to where a crowd was forming around a body. So, it would seem that the murder had already taken place.
Fyror watched as Dr. Graham pulled out a file. His eyes followed its descent to the table before flitting back up to the doctor. His heart beat a little faster at the man's grim words, but he nevertheless gave a slight nod of his head in understanding. His gaze went back down to the file. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the worst, as he gingerly reached out for the dreaded file. And yet, nothing could have truly prepared him for this.
It was worse than he could have possibly imagined, the agony this woman was put through--and what Millicent was to endure. The further he delved into the information the worse the horrors got. There was a mixture of thoughts and emotions running through him right then. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt his blood run cold and his heart clench inside his his chest. And yet there was also a white hot sense of outrage that was quickly simmering to the surface. When he got to the part about the sexual abuse, he found that he couldn't take reading it any longer. In a manner uncharacteristic of him, he basically slammed the file down on the table and abruptly stood up from his chair. His face was pain stricken, and there was a clear tenseness about him.
Fyror ran a hand over his face, pacing slightly in the small room. He looked back over at Dr. Graham when the man spoke up once more. One of the man's last statements, regarding this information being known by those high up, ripped emotion out of him, but not of the more pleasant kind. A fieriness came to his eyes that was really only reserved for injustice such as this. "They know about this but don't do anything?! And for what, to protect their honor?! There is a lot less honor in letting innocent women die to just keep their secrets hidden!" he interjected with a passionate righteous anger. "People wish to think that the Soulless are the scourge of the earth, but mankind has killed far more."
He paced a bit more, his face tense, which only made his rugged appearance that much more severe. What could he do? Kill the man as Dr. Graham suggested? No, that would be obstruction of justice. There had to be some way of solving this matter without unnecessary bloodshed, but what? "What about the Banns?" he suggested, stopping his pacing to look over at the doctor.
Teriny Inn: Calum gave a half chuckle and rubbed his face. Slowly and carefully, he finally got up off the floor and straightened himself up as best he could. How his clothing managed to stay as intact as he was... It was a mystery in and of itself on both fronts.
"Glad ya enjoyed it, e'er stop back by these parts do stop in and say hallow," Nigel said with a broad grin before looking over towards Calum who was dusting the dirt off his hat, nearly toppling over a candle on the bartop in the process. "Good luck lass," Nigel finally added before shaking his head and chuckling as he walked off to tend to the rest of his morning duties.
"Well, then shall we be off? Big day ahead of us," Calum said as he finally placed the hat back on his head and tucked his bible beneath his arm. "Do ya need any help gathering your things to load up into the carriage?" he asked, more than willing to help Maeve but chances were if he touched her luggage it might just spontaneously catch on fire or turn to dust, or go out the window three rooms down, or get caught in the rafters, or lord only knew what else.
London, England
The Glimmeric: Thomas turned and came rushing down the street, nearly skidding out on his worn soles as he rounded the corner. Righting himself he ran over to Michael and Francis. "Constable, will be a while," he said gasping for breath. "Lot of death, a dozen murders this morning down by the docks. All down there, only one left in the area, is patrolling, can't leave post," he added, his words breaking due to his running and being so winded. "Asked us to move body to physicians to get out of road."
It was an odd request but not uncommon in the area. There had been more than one occasion when a riot had broken out in London and all the local law enforcement had to deal with such and bodies had to wait. The local physician, if one could even be called that, was one block over. A Dr. Nuetermyre. An older chap who most questioned if he had ever attended a school of medicine. If you became ill in this area you either tended to it yourself, hired another physician, or prayed. All were better options than Dr. Nuetermyre. At this point he was there for one reason and one reason alone. Bodies. Untertaking. Selling to the medical schools dearly departed with no family ties.
Michael nodded a bit. "Very well, go get the cart from behind the shop Thomas. I'lls wheel the Lord over to Nuetermyre's," Michael said as he started to roll his sleeves up.
"Well least it can't get any worse for the bloaty bloke," Thomas said before heading down the side of the Butcher shop to retrieve the cart. Glancing over at Francis Michael tried to give the woman a smile.
"Why don't you go ahead and go about your day. If the constable needs anything once he shows up, I can fetch you. No needs to be standings out here waitin' fer hours," he said trying to assure her that he would take care of as best he could. "Whys not stop bys the shops laters? got some fresh cuts in this morning's. Be happies to gives the girls a treat this evenin's after everythangs."
Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park): Have you ever heard of the expression that is something can go wrong it will? That bad things come in threes? Well that is the case here.
1) As Constantin is rushing out on the ice to get to the whole were Elizaveta plummeted into the freezing waters below he slips. This is no ordinary slip, this slip is one that came from the depths of hell. He slipped, sprawled out, legs wrenching out in unnatural ways. Spinning like a top on his heels until the muscular tendons could take no more and snapped back sending him like an elastic band onto his back and causing his skull to bounce on the icy surface like a ping pong ball against a paddle. The momentum didn't stop, only serving to spin his body like a top along the ice until he finally came to a stop at the ices edge nearly plummeting into the waters himself. Groin - beyond strained. Head - feeling like he just got cracked with a baseball bat. Dazed and confused? To say the least.
2) Vlad is doing no better. As his fists pound on the ice, his blade trying to cut through it. So much worry, so much adrenaline, so much... Shit! The thick fog leaving everything wet. This makes a bad situation worse. As he drives the blade down to the ice, trying to cut and break through the surface to break free is when everything goes wrong. The blade not only does NOT get through the ice. It ricochets off of it, the handle coming free from the Great Bazhooli's grasp. It flips with all the grace of a new born calf into the air and the tip of the metal is coming right for him! There is no time to react. God if there only were. It hits him right between the eyes, but thankfully with a final flip. The hilt of the blade knocked Vlad back a good ten feet from Myska, leaving him sprawled out on the ice and his blade skidding to his left another twenty feet. His forehead now holding a stunning ~dent~ that may remain for the rest of his life.
3) Myska at this point is... screwed. The ice has not been chipped away enough for the tiger to break free and it is obvious that things are affecting him. Despite his heavy coat of fur, being in the ice and half submerged into icy water he is starting to get the a mild case of frost bite setting in that is likely only to get worse. He is thrashing around, his front claws trying to scratch away at the surface but he is slowing down. His strength and speed seem to be broken by a good ten percent already. How much longer can he remain in the ice before he is no longer of use to the Grand Duchess? Not long if things continue this way.
And what of Veta? No one knows at this point. She is far below the waters surface and what streams of bubbles were coming to the surface at a steady rate are spreading out. Each bubble that breaks the surface is smaller and there is more time between it and the next and the next. And unlike Constantin and Vlad - she does not possess Fal'shbort. She is not tougher, stronger, more Russian. She is a dainty princess for the love of god! You had better do something fast or you won't be saving this princess from any castle!
Westminster Hospital: Pulling up to the front of Westminster Hospital, the doorman rushed over to open the carriage door. Emma's hand rested lightly in his as she stepped out of the carriage and shot Gerard a look that mirrored many a look her mother had given Gerard anytime she had caught him and Millicent enjoying each others company. "Tend to the carriage, he shall return shortly," Emma told the doorman. "Come on. You are to take Millicent home and finish preparations for our departure," Emma said in an impatient voice as she gathered the length of her dress and headed up the front steps.
Making her way quickly through the hospitals lobby and up to the second floor she made a beeline for her mothers private room. The door was open and inside there was Mrs. Wyndham. She was sitting up, well partially. A pile of pillows were behind her back and she was belittling the so called nurse over the quality of her meal. "But Mrs. Wyndham, it is doctors orders that you remain on nothing but liquids for the time being. You must regain your strength," the nurse said in a nearly defeated voice before taking notice of the new arrivals. "Miss Jones, good morning. Are you here to sit with your mother?"
"Yes yes. I am taking over for Millicent, where has that bluestocking run off too? Reading to the lepers I bet instead of sitting here and keeping mother company," Emma snapped as she took a seat next to the bed. This caused a silence to fall over the room as both the nurse and Mrs. Wyndham exchanged looks of confusion between the two of them. Emma rose a slightly intrigued brow. "What?"
"Emma, Milli hasn't been here," Mrs. Wyndham stated rather quickly before shooing off the nurse.
"Mother, are you sure you are not just dazed from the trauma? Milli took the carriage Lord Rutherford sent me home in last night to come take over for me. I was to relieve her before lunch, so here I am. You have been alone this entire time?" Emma asked as she rested her hand on her mothers. The two started berating Millicent right then and there. Going on about how selfish she must be to not have shown up to sit with Mrs. Wyndham and how if she has run off to avoid her obligations they would never forgive her.
Upstairs on the third floor Dr. Graham sighed as he tossed his glasses onto the desk. "They care only for their perceived honor and when it comes to women of marriage they see them as nothing more than property as the law dictates. The loss of a wife is no more than the loss of an old stallion that has long been put out to pasture," he said before rubbing the bridge of his nose.
At the mention of the banns her cocked a brow. "The banns. That could work, if there are ever any posted," Dr. Graham added as he sat up and laced his fingers together. Resting his joined hands on the desk he looked towards Fyror as his lips thinned. "There were no banns posted for Lord Rutherfords last marriage. He refused to wait. The night of the engagement he rushed the poor girl off to Gretna Green to marry. There was no chance for anyone to protest the marriage or for her to cry off the engagement. By the time anyone knew she was gone... It was too late. She was already his lawfully wedded wife in the eyes of the law and god."
St. Etheldreda's: "Yes yes, this world needs me about as much as a skinned knee needs a blood letting," she said quickly as she sat down and pulled out her archives. "Nevertheless, I shall have this recorded before you leave. Return to retrieve it when you are ready, now out of my archives so that I might work in peace," she said with quill in hand.
Adam looked over to Mary and nodded, his arms coming from around himself to take Sister Mary's hand. His hand was warm to the touch even though he had appeared cold a moment ago. "Oh yes, some food sounds wonderful," he said as his mood seemed to switch. Walking out of the room Adam glanced around as they headed towards the kitchen. The young boy hadn't realized how hungry he was until now but it seemed that food would have to wait a bit more. Sister Alma came around the corner carrying an arm full of clothing.
"Sister Mary, there you are," she said surprised. It was obvious that the old nun had completely forgotten the fact that Mary had stated where she was going and when, so the fact they were crossing paths now was a complete surprise to Alma. "I was able to find a few things in the donations that were waiting to go to the local orphanage." Alma had obviously forgotten what size the boy was or that Adam even was a boy - for in all the clothing she had brought with her there were items for children as young as four years of age and dresses for girls. Thankfully though as she held out the arm load of items there was at least some slacks and a shirt that looked like they would fit Adam. Not perfectly, for there would be a little bit of available growing room, but nice enough for now. The best part was the only pair of shoes would actually fit the child until a pair could be made for him personally.
Crypt Manor: Peter looked more than relieved that Virginia did not seem to be upset over the matter at hand. His grip finally easing up a bit on the brim of his hat. If he kept wringing it the way he was it was going to wear through to nothing but frayed threads at this rate. "Yes Lady Crypt. Thank you. I will get to work on that right now," he said quickly before excusing himself and heading back out into the garden.
He would need to take a quick trip to the garden's shed to retrieve some containers to place samples in as well as his tools. He was not exactly sure what all she would need but he felt it was better to bring too much and far to large of samples than not enough. Some of the water from fountain, mud and brick chunk from beneath the waters surface, clippings of each dead plant and flower on the estate. It was going to take sometime. The wheelbarrow in hand with the items he collected from the shed resting in the base of it he moved as quickly as he could from one point of the gardens to the other.
“Will free you in a … slip ohhh..” Constantin was interrupted rather rudely by the laws of physics! Because of the slippery ice, the frankly not too great boots of the time period and the kinetic energy plus a few other minor things he slipped! He did a slip for the ages that was! First he knew he was falling next he knew well didn't really understand what was going on. His head was feeling like a drummer was having a party in there. His body hurt from the strain and especially his groin.
“Ще го утрепя...“ He groaned in daze, everything was spinning, head was drumming, muscles hurting. Everything was a bloody mess. He had to get up and focus, but that was one incredible fall so it was lucky he even was conscious right now.”Охх... ангелчетата пеят хубаво... хубави цветчета...“ He was mumbling nonsense as his head was trying to more or less get everything sorted out so the rescue attempts could restart!
Fal'shbort - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian!
Tretiy Glaz - An ability that gives a person a sixth sense into the future. Unpredictable and random.
Location: (Outside of) Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park)
That did not proceed exactly as planned. Yes, there could have been a couple of things that he had done differently. For starters, Vladimir probably should have curled his thumb over the pommel of his knife, ensuring that the blade didn't make the unfortunate leap of cutlery acrobatics that caused it to fly straight up, tumble lightly in the misty air, and swiftly seek out the displaced Russian man's forehead as if intentionally hurled in his direction from above. The moisture over everything likely didn't help whatsoever with his endeavors to maintain control of his own knives, either. The tiniest piece of luck did worm its way into the situation as the blade decided to rotate around to its generally less lethal end before bashing him squarely in his forenoggin, slamming him to the ice with sufficient force as to cause him to go sliding in one direction, his knife in another.
His brain clouded, whispering sweet nothings to him, saying that it would be okay if he would just go to sleep. He had suffered a trauma and would hardly be blamed if he just closed his eyes and succumbed to the cold of the ice underneath him and the acid in his skull. Just sleep. Vladimir's eyes fluttered and began to close, content that this was the best thing to do.
"NO!" he shouted, sitting bolt upright from his second of near unconsciousness. "The Great Bazhooli no sleeps vhile sem'ya is in danger!" Valdimir was indeed tougher. He was stronger. And he most certainly more Russian. The spirit of Fal'shbort was indeed with him as he desperately ignored the throbbing pain in his forehead. He looked to his fellow Circus Performer, also not having the best of moments. "Constantin! You get ice!"
The cat was slowing down. Their only hope of saving little Veta, and Vladimir would be triple-damned if he was going to do nothing while his adoptive daughter lay beneath icy water. Myshka was going to survive, and the great tiger was going to save Elizaveta. But they would all need help. Vladimir scrambled forward, reaching out to administer the Rusyn Skill of Krasnoye to the gallant beast, an oft useful ability that healed physical traumas of all sorts. He could at least buy the tiger precious time and get him back to strength while his associate worked to help free him.
"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Location: St. Etheldreda's
Mary smiled at Sister Lazarus, departing her office with a light curtsy. She admired the woman. A truly unique lady, she took to her job with skill and a sense of humor that, while sarcastic, was never cruel. "Of course, Sister. Thank you very much for your haste. We shall return before we leave this morning." With that, Mary led Adam from the records rooms and toward the Great Hall, behind which the kitchens were positioned.
To Mary's joyous surprise, Alma had found them. Very nearly running into them in the hallway with sight obscured by an armload of mismatched clothes, some of which were gender inappropriate, most of which were sewn for persons much larger and older than Adam, else for much younger children. As they didn't really have a table or proper place to spread out the varied choice of apparel, Mary had no difficulty whatsoever with carefully laying the armload of clothing upon the floor and carefully picking through them. After a short couple of minutes, the Sisters Mary Alma and Mary Ignatia had managed to locate a more or less matched and fitting set of clothing, decent slacks and a presentable shirt for a young gentleman. The biggest boon to their endeavor to make little Adam ready to have his day on the town was a pair of decent shoes. Mary quickly helped Sister Alma to reassemble the remaining clothing into a form more compact and ready for the elder Nun to carry. "Thank you so much, Sister Alma, for helping provide for our guest. And I know he appreciates it, as well." Mary looked to the child at her side, "Don't you, Adam?"
Mary smiled, looking over to their destination just a few meters away. "Come along then, let us spend a few minutes in the kitchen, and then find a place where you might change into your new clothes."
Gerard was expected to wait in the carriage while he would have left Emma go in the hospital, then she gave him this look, a cold, chilling stare only he would've seen in Mrs Wyndham. He braced himself by instinct, that stare could've meant something unwelcoming but instead, the irishman found relief in her request. He'll gladly take away Millicent away from this place, and sooner hopefully back in the countryside. He want nothing else but what is best for her.
As they made their way into the building, Gerard gawkily looked around while he followed Emma like a child with his mother. He had never set foot in a hospital before, as most of his life living far away from cities. That and he doesn't have the status and money to visit one. It was not like he had expected what it would be like inside nor how it smelled like. Blood, antiseptics, musty linens and desolation altogether.
They head their way towards the second floor, Gerard trying to catch up on Emma as she paced towards the room where her mother was staying. Millie wasnt there. Gerard was surprised at what he heard from both women's exchange, and at the mention of Rutherford, Gerard felt like he was gutted. His eyes looked towards the two woman as they exchanged scolding comments about Millicent, every hurtful word rang in his ears. It wasn't fair for them to say such things, having the urge to say something he held on, until the soothing tune inside his head had gone deaf.
"Enough!" Gerard yelled out, just enough to have them stop from their conversation. The look on his face hinted his own shock at what he just did, but he truly had enough of it. It took him years to build up that courage, to finally speak his mind and defend Millie even though she's not here. He has no idea what kind of wrath he just unleashed on himself, although frankly at this point he doesn't care anymore.
"Y-you truly don't know Ms Millie, the both of you." He was fumbling his words, eyes fixed to the floor, not daring to look up at all cost. "It's not fair of you to judge her like that." Trying to catch his breath, he finally looked up to the two women. " Can't you see what she just gone through? She's in deep trouble and all you do is...is" Under her tense nervousness, he battled to catch up his words "degrade and discredit her in every good thing she does. Ms Millie is never selfish. But I know that the both of you are." He felt a sudden wave of relief. Yet he knew he had just taken a huge, irreversible risk for voicing that out. Neither of them had any regard for Millie, she deserved to be defended and fought for, finally he had that courage to do so.
Frances Warwick
Location: The Glimmeric;
After had almost took quite a while, Thomas, in his quick feet came running towards them, bearing news that the constable will be on his way. In the meantime, they were asked to move the body out of the road which was a sound idea. A body blatantly displayed near the establishment would have put a bad impression on business, as if the gossips surrounding them, the madame wasn't already enough. It's a discussion under hushed tones by the newcomers, the wary and the adventurous that the madame has a hidden chamber inside her boudoir. Not that it was some dark secret worth hiding, nor she had somebody killed in there yet but that didn't stop people from suspiciously whispering amongst themselves. If you ask her this was a good enough warning for the men who misbehave, everything done with pure and blunt professionalism. Primarily.
The madame raised a brow at the boy's mention of the murders at the docks. As far as she knows it wasn't uncommon as well for murders to occur in that area of the strand, but piles, dozens of dead bodies all in one single location? Somebody over there must have been having the time of their life, she thought. And this both intrigued, and worried her. Looking over to the dead Lord Galloway, she wondered if he was somewhat related, or probably even be one of the victims of the bloodbath.
As they prepared to scoop up the body off the street, Frances returned him a grateful nod at Michaels offer. "How thoughtful of you Michael. The girls will definitely appreciate it." She gave him a polite smile. "I will have Benny stop by your shop. In the mean time I should be attending to the girls. This incident has indeed worried us all. Although do inform me of the constable's arrival." She gave him a slight nod before heading her way back to the Glimmeric.
As she entered the girls were settled down on the tables, their eyes lingered on her with odd silence as if expecting her to answer their growing curiosities of the recent happening. Frances had nothing to say other than there's yet any exact information as to what happened to Galloway, and that the constable would be taking awhile to attend to it. "Apparently there has been a massacre at the docks. A dozen people killed, from what the boy had informed us." Their eyes widened in disbelief, then muttered among themselves. "Oh dear Lord. Are you sure?" One of the older girls comment. "Could that boy Thomas be just foolin ya? He can be a bit of a rascal, you know."
Frances herself couldnt believe it. The fact that someone would openly kill a dozen people in a public place, seems pretty reckless. Or move there if they had been killed some place else. It would be very surprising if the murderer has yet to be caught. "I do not believe he is, Ruby." Their curious whispering had turned into worrying. " This matter is very troubling, I know. Until it is resolved however, no one is to leave the house for what ever reason. Tonight I want all businesses to be conducted inside, that means there will be no outside appointments, decline it if you must. We can't afford having one of you get in danger. Is that clear? " The girls respond in slow nods. Frances heaved a heavy sigh, this would indeed affect the business' income for a while but the lives of these girls are more important.
The Crypts purchased the house ages ago, as their dear friend's practice was nearby. He was an undertaker. Does that surprise you? It shouldn't. Alfred manages the household affairs, as the townhouse was originally used for attending events of the season, as well as to be present for public executions. Virginia takes a professional interest in them. That should hardly surprise you either.
Virginia ate her food idly, sometimes even childishly playing with it using her fork. She recalled one Hallow's eve where her father had insisted that the family eat with pitchforks and the small frenzy that had caused the kitchen staff. They had attempted to polish them, after all, only for Lord Dywell to insist that any dirt still attached to them merely added flavor and was good for one's health. He was an unhinged man. Virginia missed him dearly.
"So Millicent is getting married?" James asked in confirmation, his eyes wide. "Does that mean the hag won't be pinching my cheeks and trying to get her to marry me anymore?"
"James, Mrs. Wyndham is not a hag," Virginia corrected. "You bring shame to Great Aunt Calpurnia Crypt when you speak like that. She was the greatest hag of them all." Calpurnia Crypt had been burned at the stake roughly a century prior. She had danced naked in the square and brought a holy man to his knees. They accused her of being a witch.
"Sorry Aunt Calpurnia..." James muttered, pouting slightly before taking a big gulp of tea. "Millie's mom is awful though...She's the worst normal of the lot."
Virginia chuckled, taking a sip of her own tea. While she disliked Mrs. Wyndham's previous attempts to engage Millicent to Virginia's little brother, James disliked them even more. He claimed that all girls carried the Black Death and while he admired that in them, he didn't feel like dying from that disease just yet. But like all little boys, his claims were filled with contradictions. He had no qualms about his sister nor Dame Hale. In fact, had James been older, Virginia might have suspected that he fancied the nun.
"Normals are not like us, dear James. They marry for political alliances and enjoy pastels such as pink," Virginia informed him. "I do not pretend to understand the situation myself, but Millicent is not a normal. I cannot imagine her marrying for anything but love."
"What about you, Ginny?" James then asked, slurping up the rest of his tea. "Are you gonna marry and leave me with Alfred?"
"No, not yet at least. I would never leave you, James. If I were to marry, my husband would be dead or comatose within the week," Virginia promised, smiling fondly at her little brother.
Location: Teriny Inn
Maeve couldn't help but feel that she would indeed be need of luck throughout the rest of this journey. She also wondered why the parson's family had entrusted him with this task, let alone any task. But Maeve supposed she couldn't expect much more from protestants. They had bastardized the Catholic faith and couldn't even walk without knocking something over. It made sense that they wouldn't be the brightest as well.
"T'anks for de offer, but both yer an' oi know 'tis best if I carry dem," Maeve replied, flashing a winning smile at the parson. "I'll be a moment." Maeve then collected herself and headed back up the stairs of the inn, entering the room she had spent the night in. A few minutes later she emerged once more, her walking stick in one hand and her belongings hoisted over her shoulder with the other hand. Descending the stairs, Maeve chuckled at the parson slightly.
"I'd give yer me shillelagh but I tink ye'd break it," Maeve teased. She was half surprised the parson hadn't found a way to break it already just by looking at it. But somehow, clothing did seem to be immune to his ways. Perhaps the same could be said for a shillelagh? However, Maeve was more focused on leaving the inn and heading out in the world. It was a nice stop after the grueling journey by boat, but she wasn't here to eat exotic fruits. She was here for her daughter--she had a duty.
Thalken listened in on the people's conversations, their voices being carried down the alleyway to his eavesdropping ears. He was melded into the shadows, hiding him from view. However, his position did not provide him a close enough view of the body to tell how the man had died. No, he would unfortunately have to get closer, and he needed to do it sooner rather than later. They were keen on getting the body out of the road, rather than first trying to figure out what had happened. Surely moving the body would contaminate the evidence. Perhaps if the constables knew how this body related to those piled up at the docks, they wouldn't be so quick disturb the scene. Well, it seemed that Thalken would just have to do the dirty work while the constables took their sweet time.
He decided to backtrack the way he had come, opting to come from the main street behind the crowd rather than from the alleyway. That would raise less suspicion. Well, as much as a man of his repertoire possibly could manage. By the time he had come back around the adjacent buildings, Thomas and Francis were no longer there. He pushed through the crowds and then brushed past Michael without a word in typical Thalken fashion. His brown eyed gaze held its usual intensity as he walked up to the very dead Lord Galloway. He knelt down by the body as his shrewd gaze looked the body over before taking in the surrounding scene. Unless the scene had been tampered with since the murder took place, there should be some kind of clue.
Location: Westminster Hospital
Dr. Graham's words made it clear to Fyror how grave this situation was. Fyror shook his head as he held it in his hands. This couldn't be happening. Why did bad things always seem to happen to good people? And that wasn't in reference to himself. This wasn't a pity party on his part. No, he was thinking of Millicent. She was a good person. He had seen no vileness in her. She gave him no reason to disrespect her, far from it actually. She was clearly more intelligent than people gave her credit for. She didn't deserve any of this. She deserved so much better than this. It genuinely tore him up inside to think of any harm coming to her, let alone a torturous existence that led to a painful death. He even felt sorry for the suffering that Lord Rutherford could potentially cause the rest of the Wyndham family. Sure, Mrs. Wyndham was never nice to him, but it didn't mean he was completely heartless. "I cannot help but feel partially responsible for this turn of events. I should never have let her leave my side. I should have stood up to Lord Rutherford and openly called him out for his mistreatment of her," he stated, looking over at Dr. Graham once more. There was raw emotion in his voice and in his demeanor, but that did not mean he had given up hope. No, Fyror had a stubborn determination to make things right, whatever the cost.
"You came to me for a reason, surely. You think there is something I can do to resolve this or to prevent further tragedies from occurring. And I swear to you on my honor that I will try my utmost to do just that. The women and families who have fallen victim to Lord Rutherford will get their due justice," he proclaimed with newfound determination. His voice became stronger and more serious the longer he talked. Soon enough, he appeared more like a captain of the infantry and less like a man with a broken heart. "We should go through with the banns, but we clearly cannot stop there. Time is of the essence. I suggest the next course of action is to bring this up with the family and to keep a close watch on Millicent and Lord Rutherford's whereabouts. Now the question that remains is are you willing to stick your neck out for this, or must I do this myself?"
Case Name: Annan Location: Port Annan -> Annan Time: Roughly an hour Reason: Dress Shopping Group: Maeve, Calum
Calum waits for Maeve to get her things and then heads over to the carriage. The driver takes them to store them on the back while Calum gets into the carriage first. He explains that he isn't trying to be rude, just that he doesn't want to fall into her lap with the luck he has been having as of late. Sure enough his face plants right into what will become Maeve's seat for the journey. The carriage is lovely, opulent even. Much richer than what a pasron should have. On the side is a code of arms - Molded, with the words I mak sikker - Maeve will know what it is and what is means nearly immediately. From Gaelic it means "I Make Sure" and is the known motto for Clan Kirkpatrick.
Now while Clans in Ireland where gone by this time in history - losing out to the law of England and the Church - over in Scotland the Clans remained strong and central. Sure families in Ireland were still proud of their clans and that pride would never die but their power and lands were stripped and gone. Now the Highland Clans of Scotland are still going strong the Lowland Clan are more a title and formality than anything. (Such as the Kirkpatricks) - yet they still strive for power by marriage into other courts - mostly outside of England. In fact, though they hold themselves as nobles they are in fact low borns in the eyes of English Courts. Seeing the Arms Maeve, due to her work in the underworld as it were, will know of the Kirkpatricks. It might not have struck her hard yet but it will now. The clan lost their castle to a sale less than 50 years before but since that time they have gained much power. Not as much as they would like in Scotland but a shit ton in an unlikely place - Spain. William Kirkpatrick, who had a sister that never left Scotland, expatriated from Scotland to go to the New World, married in Spain to a Dutch woman and had children. His Eldest Daughter in fact is María Manuela Kirkpatrick, the Countess of Montijo Spain. Her husband, Count Palafox y Portocarrero whom fought during the Napoleonic wars and was honored by Napoleon. She would also know that the Kirkpatricks are sworn enemies of the Cummings.
Now that we have had a bit of a history lesson. We are to get from Port Annan to Annan proper and meet with the dress maker. You have 7 days to complete this.
England
Case Name: A Dying Duchess Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park, London) Time: Each minute is everything Reason: Save Veta from certain death Group: Vlad, Constantin, Myska
The odds are in your favor for once. The healing goes off and Myska is regaining his strength and alertness. Clawing more and more at the ice to try to break free. There is cracking heard but not where he is... Maybe luck isn't with you. With the creature done, things are warming up but the fog is also breaking! You can see the tent city now! You can even hear it!
Now, get Veta out of there! It may already be too late but you won't know until her body is pulled from beneath the now cracking ice. You have 7 days to complete this - go!
Case Name: Time to go Location: St. Etheldreda's (London) Time: As quickly as possible Reason: To get moving to meet Veta for Brunch Group: Sister Mary, Adam
This is pretty straight forward and I could embellish to drag this out but I won't. Get food in the boy, get him dressed, get going. Sister Alma has said goodbye at this point, leaving with the rest of the clothing. She makes her way back towards the laundry but hey, butterfly! She goes off in the wrong direction. Typical. Adam holds his things and is saying thank you over and over again before looking at Mary and expressing how hungry he suddenly feels. 7 days!
Case Name: Death of a Garden Location: Crypt Manor (London) Time: An hour or two Reason: Try to figure why everything died and why only 1 thing grew - well that might have to wait... Group: The Crypts, Peter
Time to break out the chemistry set. Virginia is going to want to know what is going on, but hey - curveball headed your way. Peter comes rushing in, covered in dirt, tracking it all over the place. He looks at James for a minute before looking back at Virginia. He informs her that he has found something else out in the garden and he needs her to come with him immediately, without her brother. He expressly forbids it. The man looks like he has seen a ghost. O.o 7 days!
The Glimmeric: "Of course," Michael said as he stood there. He would let Frances know soon as he could when the constable arrived but he was going to do his damnedest not to let the constable bother her. Yet he feared that might be an option as one of her girls had been the first to see the body. More and more people were gathering about the place and Thomas was trying to bring the cart around at this time. "People, please, move out of the way. We don't want this corpse rotting away here or worse... turning," he said as a warning. Granted if the body did turn it wouldn't be for days but still the very notion made most of the people either back away or head back to their homes. At least enough had moved so Thomas could bring the cart about.
"You, give me a hand," Michael said to Thalken as he spotted the man poking around. He didn't know him but the majority of the people on this street were either beyond thin due to poverty, old, or women. This one seemed the only one strong enough to give Michael a hand in moving the pot bellied dead man. Thomas had barely been good enough in strength and size to move the heavy cart to the front of the street for Michael.
Setting down the drawing end of the cart Thomas stepped aside and Michael leaned down, getting a grip under the man's shoulders and eying Thalken to see if he would actually step in and give him a hand or if he was just going to have to heave the fatso into the cart by himself. He could do it, he knew that, he moved large carcasses of beef and pork constantly but it was one thing tossing a dead wrapped cow over your shoulder that was clean and a bloody corpse.
Westminster Hospital: Mrs. Wyndham and Miss Jones looked at Gerard like he had lost his mind. They had never been spoken to like this. Well they had actually, by Mr. Wyndham once and for the very same reason. Yet this was not a husband or step father with money. This was a poor nothing to them who should count himself lucky to have a paying job. Mrs. Wyndham narrowed her eyes and tore into Gerard as loudly and vilely as possible. Berating him for speaking to them like that, for opening his mouth period, for saying a word against them, for speaking of things he knew nothing about.
The nurse looked into the room and then rushed back out again, making her way down the hall and up the stairs even as Mrs. Wyndham continued. The woman's shrill carrying up and down the floors like a harpy. "I should fire you this minute!" she finally snapped but she knew in the back of her mind that she couldn't. Not only was the man under contract by her husband and renewed by Millicent - who was in charge of the finances until her father returned or she was wed - but she also knew that no one else would work for them. She had been trying for a long time to find a replacement man about the manor but had found no one. "You are lucky I am feeling generous. Gods grace sparing my life and all. You are docked a months pay!" she spat coldly.
Dr. Graham looked over to Fyror and sighed. "I came to you because you are the only member of a family of standing I have seen thus far treat Miss Wyndham with any sort of courtesy or kindness. I know not what we can do though. The banns are not ours to post. They must be posted by the families of those being wed. The Rutherford's and the Wyndham's. If he is going about this the same way he did last time, he won't risk a bann being posted for anyone to protest," he said in an almost defeated voice. "I will do whatever I can to help that poor child, that you can count on," the doctor added before he heard a knock at his door. "Yes?" he asked and the door opened quickly. One of the nurses standing there.
"Dr. Graham, please come quick. That lady is bellowing again, this time at one of her house staff I think," she said but she didn't need to. Mrs. Wyndham's voice cut through the air like finger nails over a chalk board.
"And if you ever speak to us that way again I will call for a good lashing to your backside. Teach you some manners and how you are to treat your betters!" the woman bellowed.
Dr. Graham nodded and rose from his desk. "Well, first things first. Let's visit Mrs. Wyndham..." he said begrudgingly though it wasn't all bad. If Mrs. Wyndham was yelling at one of her personal staff, perhaps they could talk to the person and find out how Millicent was doing this morning. Stepping out of the door he followed the nurse down the stairs and towards the old crones room.
"You tell him momma, he keeps spouting off that poor Millicent was defiled by that wonderful Lord. He spreads lies and gossip like I never seen momma," Emma chimed in. Mrs. Wyndham looked like she was about to pop a gasket and a stitch in her side as Dr. Graham walked into the room.
It didnt take a moment till shivers ran down him at Mrs Wyndham's malicious stare. Yet Gerard kept his ground and his stare, meaning every word he had said to the two woman. What he said was true anyway, he knew it was the right thing and never regretted any of it, even if it means losing his job at this very moment. It will take some time to get himself a new one if it ever came to that and to be able to keep in touch with Millie. He will have to find his ways.
Gerard helplessly let Emma and Mrs Wyndham sear him, and took almost all of it like a man. Mostly the ones directed towards him, although a docked of month's pay is surprisingly the most punishment he can get out of this, he was taken by surprise of Mrs Wyndham's decision of not firing him at all. At the most this was a relief to him, though he may be guarded from now on.
He could not believe that after what Emma just heard and saw of her sister's deaden state and warnings, she still refuse to believe it. Do they prefer not to? Because their status is more important than the safety of a family member apparently. True, although he was a poor working class nothing, this kind of thing is what disgusts him of the higher status. It was utter selfishness and the fact that they dismiss it is more than angering him. He let his stare remain as blank as he could whilst his hands tightly balled into a fist. And before he could do anything to make Mrs Wyndham rethink her decision, a man had walked into their room.
Frances Warwick
Location: The Glimmeric;
"How is she doing?" Frances walked up the second floor hallway with her right hand woman, the hallway provides as a sort balcony where it overlooks the brothel. She meant to talk about Sarah Ann. "The girl's all shook up. But can see's she's coping." Ruby replied unassertively. "Sarah is still too innocent. It's expected for such a thing to unsettle her, but I believe she'll get through it like she always does." Frances overlooks the lower floors as the girls go about their businesses, preparing for the night's trade despite the current happenings, careful and heedful of the madam's requests. Ruby joins her, her elbows comfortably leaning on the ornately sculpted oak railing, a relaxed smile on her lips.
"Twas the same look I saw in you on your first day. An uncanny resemblance if you ask me." Frances turned to her companion. "And I do remember what a fussy bitch you were back then." "Got's to keep my good reputation to the madame. You know how it was, nothing personal though." Frances let out a smile, it was rather hard to believe that just a few years ago Ruby was an unpleasant person to her, she would never imagine even sharing a conversation like with her being the second in command for the then vile madame. The Glimmeric used to be a house of unbounded servitude, girls felt the strong danger of working here. It wasn't entirely terrible though it was far from pleasant, not even half of what the Glimmeric is now. And before dead bodies were the least of France's fears, the warm flesh of the living what she fears the most more than the cold lifeless dead. That barely changed up to this day.
After awhile Frances remembered that she will have Bernie drop by at Micheals, as she excused her self the madame went to look for their housekeeper. She eventually found him outside of the establishment, just returning from the brewery with the deliveries of Ale and mead for the week. Bernie looks fairly older, just as old even as the few mature workers at the Glimmeric. Not even they know much about him. With his overall appearance it's not so hard to miss him. He was busily grabbing one keg after the other from the carriage, when he took sight of the madame coming at his direction. Halting his work, he looks down at her, greeting in his usual gaunt stare. "Bernie, can you drop by at the butcher's shop today, the butcher has some produce ready for us." He nodded with a grunt, and goes on to transfer the last of the kegs. Frances then went around just outside the front of the Glimmeric, pausing to see what of the men who were to carry the Lord. With a rather, "generous" man like him she imagines it will be no easy task for the two.
Thalken paused his examination of the crime scene when he heard someone talking to--him? His head slowly swiveled to the side, and his dark eyed gaze sought out the source of what he viewed as an intrusion. His gaze inevitably landed on Michael with such intensity that it practically bored into the man. There was also a coldness to Thalken that was clear as day, and yet apart from that, one could not really tell exactly what he was thinking or feeling. He preferred it that way, as he should hate to be predictable.
He rose to his feet. Given his standoffish demeanor, it was yet to be determined if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He did a onceover of Michael and Thomas before taking in those in the crowds surrounding them. It was not too difficult for him to deduce the reasoning behind the request for his assistance. Apart from the butcher, he was easily the fittest man there. His help was definitely needed. But to do it front of all these people? He didn't want an audience! His lips thinned, and his jaw clenched as he seemed to wrestle with the decision for a moment. Would it ruin his reputation? What if word got back to his father that he was publicly helping people? Why was it so hard for him to choose to do something good?!
Thalken quickly pushed aside the flurry of self-defeating thoughts and doubts. "Fine," he retorted gruffly, before he could change his mind. If there was any hope for him to dissociate himself from his father's cruel ways, it was here and now. He couldn't pass up on opportunities to make a more positive difference, no matter how insignificant that difference was. Thalken sighed before finally walking over to the legs of the dead Lord Galloway. He leaned down and got a firm grip before nodding to Michael that he was ready.
Location: Westminster Hospital
Fyror refused to let defeat or hopelessness overcome him, even if the odds did seem to be stacked against him. If nothing could be done to save Millicent, if it was a lost cause, it would hurt him, truly. But it would hurt him just as much if he sat back and did nothing. He had to try something, anything, to save her from this terrible fate. He was not the type of man who could just sit back idly while people suffered. No, he was a man of action. He would put everything on the line to protect an innocent life. He was at least glad to hear that Dr. Graham was willing to do the same, that he wouldn't let fear of retribution rule him. Fyror would surely need all the help he could get with this.
His attention was diverted from the doctor as there was a knock on the door followed by the entrance of a nurse. No sooner had she explained the situation did a familiar voice cut through the air. Well, it was nice to know Mrs. Wyndham was alive and well. Her lungs were clearly unaffected by the iron rod that had impaled her. He nodded his head in response to Dr. Graham and followed close behind him. It was easy to locate the room that Mrs. Wyndham resided in. All one really had to do was follow the shrill sound of her voice as it echoed through the halls of Westminster Hospital.
As they neared, Fyror heard another female voice chime in. Unfortunately, it did not sound like Millicent's, and that notion was confirmed as he and Dr. Graham entered the room. It was Emma who was speaking now, and the words that fell from her lips couldn't have hit him any harder. "WHAT?!" he practically spat. The words spilled out unchecked, coming out so much harsher than he would've liked. Anger had rapidly boiled to the surface, and it threatened to spill out even more. Realizing that, he quickly turned on his heels and sent his butt outside the room to get a grip. His rugged features were only rendered that much harsher and threatening when he got riled up like this. He took some deep breaths as he tried to calm his racing heart and to reign in the anger. That anger was better reserved for Lord Rutherford, and Lord Rutherford would most certainly pay for what he has done to Millicent. Fyror would make sure of it.
After some decently sufficient cool off time, he finally made his way back into the room. He tried to keep his facial expression more or less deadpan. That alone didn't exactly make him seem more approachable, but it was the best he could do in the given circumstances. His stoic demeanor was at least somewhat befitting his role as a captain in the British infantry. "Sorry about that. Now tell me what happened," he stated. His voice serious as his gaze met each of theirs.
Alfred frowned deeply seeing the dirt tracked in by Peter. He understood the worrisome state of the garden, but it would take time and effort to get those floors cleaned once more. That task would then fall upon the responsibility of one of the various maids in the house, in addition to what would likely be a futile attempt to get little James out of his jam stained clothing and into something suitable. Of course, then there was the matter of removing the stains themselves...
Virginia, however, raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "...I do not take the request to withhold matters from the young viscount lightly," Virginia said, pausing for a moment as she took in Peter's state of worry and fear. "But very well. I shall acquiesce to your request." Virginia then rose from the table, ignoring the pouting and pleading from James to accompany her to the garden. Whatever Peter had found, Virginia surmised it would be quite serious.
"Thank you mi'lady," Peter said in a shaky voice, grateful the young master was not coming with them. He knew she didn't take the request lightly but he needed her to see this first without James at her side.
"Master James, let's get you freshened up," Alfred said sternly, practically dragging the little boy away from the table and off to take a bath. James kicked and screamed a bit, causing Virginia to sigh slightly. She then headed outside of the manor with Peter, pausing on the front steps. "Please do show me what you have discovered."
Making his way around the manor slowly he moved into the main part of the gardens out back, weaving through the maze of high hedges until they came to a large central are with a gazebo in the middle. Within it was a a flayed animal pinned to the wooden structure like some horrible experiment gone wrong. Blood dripping everywhere. It was hard to tell what it was at first from the hanging internal organs swaying from its split gut but as ones eyes traveled upward it became clear it was a wolf. Most wolves were extinct in the British Isles, such a rare creature now. One had not been seen south of the Scottish border in more than fifty years. The blood had coagulated on the floor of the gazebo held a warning in a language that only Virginia would know.
Virginia's eyes widened at the gruesome sight, taking each and every detail in. If possible, she would very much like to preserve the specimen and see if she could figure out how a wolf had landed itself in England. She had never seen them before in her native country, only glimpsing them on occasion out in America during her training. She would use sokw and walk next to them, marveling at their beauty. Even in death, the flayed animal had a certain enchanting quality to it.
Standing there wring his poor hat once again, Peter relooked over the horror before him. "So you know what it says Lady Crypt?"
"The youngest will die first before the pack is slaughtered," Virginia said, reading the symbols written in blood. It was in Arre-Catte Waho. Yet the threat itself was the most alarming thing to Virginia. It was a threat against James' life. He was the youngest Crypt and while the warning did seem to suggest her parents still lived, since it was the pack that would be slaughtered second, Virginia's heart began to pound. "They mean to do this to James," Virginia clarified for Peter. Her hands shook ever so slightly, showing the panic that had overwhelmed her. She was fiercely protective of her brother.
"Why type of person would target a child?" he asked more to himself than to Virginia. Sure James was not your typical child, far from it, but that could be said of all the Crypts.
"We shall make arrangements for increased protection for James," Virginia then said numbly. She went through the mental list of families the Crypts had done business with before, those who could be trusted to provide proper aid. Her previous thoughts to visit Millicent Wyndham had been forgotten, as with her desire to visit dear departed Mosi's family. If it took the entire Crypt family fortune to provide protection for James, so be it. She would do anything to ensure her brother's safety.
Peter nodded as his eyes swept over the dead animal. "How do you wish me to dispose of this?" he asked. He had wanted to rip it down immediately but had held off so Virginia could see for herself. He wasn't sure if she just wanted him to burn it, toss it, or if she wanted to do something with it in that laboratory of hers.
"Use clean gloves and remove it from the gazebo. We will need to submerse it in a container filled with pure alcohol." It was a relatively straightforward process for a normal specimen, but the wolf had been almost entirely flayed. Preserving it for further analysis would be more complicated than Virginia liked, she feared. "But that is a task I may perform, Peter. If you would be so kind as to carefully move the carcass into the basement laboratory, that will suffice. I will send another to see if we have any suitable alcohol in storage while I pen some letters in order to find additional protection for James...If he should ask you about these events, tell him everything aside from the message in blood. Such sweet terror can be saved for a later date."
"Right away m'lady. Will get the message cleaned up first then," Peter said as he started to turn to go get the supplies he needed. stopping his his tracks he looked back over to Virginia. "Might want to be goin' to talk to him yerself, keep him occupied whilst I get the message cleaned off afters I gets samples. You knows how curious he is, bet he already be breaking away from Alfred," he added before rushing off his hat nearly wrung in half at this point.
Virginia nodded, taking another glance at the bloody writing. She was not certain as to whether or not James should be informed of the events in the garden at all. Should he ask, she did not believe the knowledge should be denied to him. But without prompting, would it be best to let him know? Peter was right--James was curious. He would want to know each and every little detail. "Thank you, Peter," Virginia called out, before heading back inside the manor.
Listening to see where her brother was in the halls, Virginia didn't hear him at first. However, an exclamation from Alfred soon rang out - "Master James, no swords in the bath!" Virginia smiled a bit and headed up the stairs. James would be occupied for at least another five minutes, giving her more time to make her decision as to whether or not to inform him of the gory details. More likely than not, Virginia would divulge them. Moving into what once had been her father's study, Virginia took up a writing implement and paper, penning two letters.
Sir Beowulf Talink,
I write to you as a request for assistance in a most dire matter, in hopes of obtaining your services that shall be paid in full. In the wake of the tragedy at the Almack's Assembly Rooms, a graphic threat has been made against the life of the Viscount Wenwynith. I must then turn to those who have been allies of my family and have participated in similar business deals with us before, in order to secure protection for the viscount. I must impress the urgency of this request and a discussion of terms can be held at the Crypt Manor near the Strand at a moment's notice. Should you be unable to perform this task, I shall make other inquiries with those who are more willing.
The Lady Virginia Crypt
Dame Mary Ignatia Hale,
I write to you under unfortunately dire circumstances, Dame Hale. A threat has been made against the Viscount Wenwynith's life and has left my brother in jeopardy. I have no doubt that the defiled creature and the note penned in blood - the youngest will die first before the pack is slaughtered - has grave meaning. This message is not the only troubling occurrence to happen at Crypt Manor and I am writing to you as a request for aid.
While we are not Catholic and certainly not Protestants, Viscount Wenwynith has a deep admiration for you and your work. I hope you are able to offer assistance and protection after the killings at the Almack's Assembly Rooms, as this is not a matter that I can take lightly. I await your reply.
The Lady Virginia Crypt
Virginia then sealed and addressed the letters, carrying them with her out of the study. Her eyes swept around until she spotted one of the servants and gave quick instructions to have the letters delivered at once, without any sort of delay. The second one she spotted was sent to see if they had any alcohol of good purity in storage. It would have to be a great quantity, in order to submerge the carcass. Virginia usually was not too demanding of the staff, perfectly content to live in a home as it decayed around her. This behavior was unusual for her, but if there was one thing in the world she cared deeply about, it was her little brother's wellbeing.
Her hands had a certain chill to them and Virginia pressed them together for a moment. The day was young and yet there already seemed to be too little time to accomplish all of the tasks she desired. However, by the screaming and laughter, she could tell that James had nearly finished his bath--or that Alfred had finally given up trying to attempt to get James cleaned. He was a little devil and it brought a smile to Virginia's face, despite the shock coursing through her veins.
"James, my sweet little monster, have mercy on poor Alfred," Virginia called out. She imagined it would not be too long before Peter returned with the samples and the carcass to preserve.
Peter sighed to himself as he hefted down the carcass into the wheelbarrow he had lined with cloth. Leaning down once he had collected the samples he smeared the message. Clean up would take sometime but he could at least make sure that James didn't run across what was written. He doubted the boy would understand what it said since he had not been trained as of yet but if he saw writing Peter was sure James would ask Virginia about it. Grasping the wheelbarrow he moved it towards the door of the laboratory, hopefully Virginia would be there soon enough to unlock it. He didn't want to leave the mess at the gazebo long but he wasn't about to leave the carcass unattended, if James got away from Alfred he could just picture the boy running around with it as bloodied cloak.
James bolted out of his room and skidded to a halt by Virginia, with a weary looking Alfred trailing behind him. Alfred's hair was a bit of a mess and the man quickly attempted to straighten it. It wasn't always easy minding James and it was definitely a bit of a physical workout. There were moments when Alfred wondered how long James would keep his energy like this, but he doubted James would ever change that much. Virginia kept him sheltered from much of British customs and society. "Whatwasinthegarden?" James asked quickly, his words mushing together.
Virginia grimaced a bit. Peter had been correct--her brother was a curious little devil. "James, what do we say when we ask for things?" Virginia chided. James rolled his eyes a little bit and dropped to the ground, as if it took an enormous amount of effort.
"Now, if possible," James answered, gaining him a little smile from his sister. Other families impressed the importance of please upon their children. Yet the Crypts tended to teach their children to assert themselves. Manners of traditional British society were taught at an older age, once court appearances and the likes were expected. It had become tradition after one of Virginia's great-great grandfathers grew tired of getting challenged to duels over an insult to someone else's honor. Too much fun eventually was wearisome, after all.
Alfred, of course, held his tongue. He wasn't sure teaching James to assert himself was really needed at this point. The young viscount already succeeded in that area.
"Very good. Peter discovered the flayed corpse of a wolf--an animal extinct here in England. If you wish to train, you will perhaps see one that is not mangled one day."
"Can I see it?" James whined, his eyes wide with astonishment.
"Perhaps after your lessons," Virginia answered. James was allowed into the laboratory under supervision and had a tendency to drastically alter any ongoing experiments. It would be best if she finished up with her analysis before James was allowed an opportunity for some active learning and engagement. It took a few good minutes of arguing but eventually Alfred managed to pull James away, allowing Virginia to head down the flights of stairs until she reached the laboratory door, having fetched the key from the study. Unlocking the door, she opened it for Peter and held it, in order for the man to slip inside without too much difficulty.
"Thank you, Peter," Virginia said.
"Of course m'lady," Peter said as he wheeled the carcass into the laboratory. Setting it down carefully he moved the wolves body to a clear table before handing over the samples he had gathered. "Will get everything cleaned up now. I will check in on you once I am done to see if you need anything Lady Crypt," he said before moving the wheelbarrow out of the lab and getting back to his duty. He wanted to get rid of the evidence as quickly as he could.
Virginia nodded, appreciating the sentiment. She didn't care much as to what happened to her clothing throughout the process of working in the laboratory, but gloves were a necessity and her hair would need to be held back. Pulling her hair back and putting on a pair of gloves kept down there, Virginia began to examine the specimens. A member of the household staff should return shortly with the needed spirits.
Location: Port Annan -> Annan #EveryDayImFuddling
Maeve resisted the urge to roll her eyes as Calum nearly fell within the carriage. It was far nicer than anything she had been expecting, given that while Calum was part of Clan Cumming, he was merely a parson. It was the sort of carriage she had dreamed of having as a little girl, a thought that only made Maeve wonder for a moment if the dress they were shopping for would be just as fine. "This is gran'," Maeve said as got herself settled and she had kept her shillelagh with her. One could never be too careful.
Of course, the coat of arms brought a bit of confusion to Maeve. While she had known she would be working in the Kirkpatrick household, it hadn't sunk in until now the extent of the rivalry between Clan Kirkpatrick and Clan Cumming. It hardly made any sense for her that the Kirkpatricks would accept a household staff member selected by the Cummings. Seamus must have had similar concerns when the Brennans were first approached for this assignment. She considered asking the parson more about the rivalry, but she couldn't be certain if their conversation would be truly private due to the carriage driver. She didn't want to risk betraying her cover.
Calum grinned over to Maeve. "Indeed it is," he chuckled a bit as he climbed into his seat better and tapped the top of the carriage to signal they were ready to go. The carriage jerked a bit as it pulled away from the inn and towards their newest destination. Relaxing a bit, the parson had a wide tight lipped grin on his face as he watched out one of the curtained windows. The breeze coming into the carriage making the air much more pleasant. Resting his bible in his lap and his hat next to him he frowned a bit noticing the dent in it. "Oh fuddle."
Maeve glanced over at the parson's mild curse. She raised an eyebrow before noticing the slight dent in his hat. In her experience, those things could be fixed relatively easily. Or at least, she always assumed they could be. To her, it was just a matter of popping the dent out with a little pressure on the other side. It was a minor approach though. If that didn't work, perhaps it could stay on a mold until it learned to hold its shape again, after dampening the areas that had gotten bent. "Don't look so glum. It can be fixed, I t'ink," Maeve said confidently.
Glancing over to Maeve, Calum nodded a bit. "I do hope so," he said as he picked up the hat and looked it over before his face dropped a bit more. From the looks of things it would not be as easy to repair as a simple pop out, there was a tear in the fabric itself. One too many falls had seemed to finally take its toll on the poor hat. Shaking his head he sat it back down beside him and glanced back out of the window. The country side rolling by them as they headed towards Annan. "Oh this should be quiet the exciting day. Annan is much more civil than the port. Is this your first time in Scotland?" he asked.
The state of the hat was a bit disappointing, but they were headed to a dressmaker. Perhaps Calum could purchase a new one there or find someone more qualified to mend it. At any rate, the poor hat had no doubt been through a lot in its lifetime and might be glad for some relief. It had survived Calum's clumsiness thus far, after all. "Aye. We didn't 'av much coin at al' growin' up--an' even now, we still don't. Canny afford ter go aff ter Scotlan' whenever ye'd loike. Al' de extra coin went towards 'avin' me train."
The parson looked over towards Maeve a bit surprised. "You're trained? Oh do tell, where did you go? Must have been most exciting," he said as he sat up a bit in his seat. She had gotten his attention with that little tid bit of information.
Maeve nodded, realizing how little the parson actually knew about her. "The far an' exotic lan' av Ireland," Maeve quipped, beaming a bit with pride just at the name of her land. While it didn't cost much to train in Ireland, Maeve was still lucky to have been allowed to do so. It meant less help around the house for her mother, though she came down with a plague once Maeve returned home from training. None of her siblings had trained, as their aunt and uncle hadn't viewed it necessary. Looking back on it, she was lucky to have been able to train. "But still, I enjoyed it. I didn't 'av me siblings ter watch an' I learned ter scream like a banshee."
Callum looked even more surprised as he leaned back in his seat. "Well then you are going to have something in common with your new employer," he said as he rested his hands on either side of him and tried to keep from knocking himself over due to the bumps in the road. What possibly could Maeve and Lady Kingston have in common? Other than being female?
"Did Lady Kirkpatrick train, I take it? Or does she jist 'av a surprisingly shrill scream?" Maeve asked, a bit surprised. Peers never seemed the type to value training, at least the women. It was an endless source of irony to Maeve. Those who could afford the training were often reluctant to undertake it. It was perhaps a perfect definition of privilege. She would've sent Roisin for training if it was practical, but not many understood Irish Sign Language.
"Oh yes, very trained indeed. She is one of the Elders at this time with the Graveolase, representing Ireland," he said as he sat there. "Odd isn't it? A peer being trained in Ireland? Well, fall of the clans of Scotland has caused issues with many families. Kirkpatricks had nothing but title for so long, now they have money but their title means little with the crown. Believe she is the only Peer whoever dirtied their hands," he said before realizing what he said and stuttering, "I mean what they think of as dirtying their hands."
Maeve rose an eyebrow. A female Scottish peer representing Ireland with the Graveolase? She hadn't heard before that Lady Kirkpatrick was one of the elders, with the news stunning her. That type of work was restricted to men of a certain standing and disposition. For a mere moment, Maeve felt a pang of guilt over the job that she was sent to do--to essentially spy on the Kirkpatricks. But it didn't last very long. At her core, Maeve was loyal to only three things: herself, her family, and her religion. The ends would justify the means. "I don't take any offense at dat, parson. Don't fret," Maeve reassured him. "So why is Lady Kirkpatrick lettin' Clan Cummig' fend 'er 'ousehauld staff?" Maeve then asked. It didn't make much sense, given everything she had learned.
Calum looked over towards Maeve for a moment and sighed. "She isn't..." he said before rubbing his face. Leaning forward he picked up his bag and set it down next to him in the seat. Opening it up he pulled out a clerical collar and held it up. "Father Blair is," he said sheepishly before putting the shirt back into his bag. "An Anglican Cumming? She'd have me head and while I look forward to standing before God, not ready yet," he added nervously.
Maeve wrinkled her nose slightly at Calum's mention of Anglicans. However, she also was a little bit impressed with Calum. She didn't imagine him to have that sort of thing in him. He didn't seem to be made of the proper stuff for it. "As long as yer fend Catholicism before yer die, you'll be gran'," Maeve said. Her tone was an equal mixture of seriousness and playfulness. "...But Father Blair, I suppose I'll 'av ter confess me sins ter 'im." There was an amused smile plastered on her face.
"Go in peace. The journey on which you go is under the eye of the Lord."
Location: St. Etheldreda's -> London Streets
Thinking over the events of the past couple of days, this moment was the only one wherein Mary felt as if she had accomplished something meaningful. It was not a great heroic act, nothing world changing or the like, though it was ingrained to her original training within the Church. Simple charity, and the warm feeling of making a difference in the well-being of a child. If the Grand Duchess was correct, a child with great potential.
Sister Alma was being, well, Sister Alma - carrying away the remaining clothing to laundry, only to pause momentarily, switch direction and toddle off, presumably with something else in mind entirely. Mary raised her hand up and called to her, "Sister Alma? Sister..." but she had already committed herself to whatever course of action had taken hold of her facilities. Mary made the sign of the Cross in the air with her hand, already raised. "Our Lord love and bless you, Sister Alma." she said with a small smile. St. Etheldreda's just wouldn't be the same place without her.
Adam looked up at Mary and giggled a bit. "She's silly, I like her," he said innocently as he glanced back down the way that Sister Alma had gone.
"Come along, Adam. Let's get you that breakfast." Mary led her small charge the last few steps into the kitchens, his hand in hers, and lifted him up onto a nearby stool. "Sisters?" she called to the Cloistered women working and gossiping inside, keeping a cheerful voice for the sake of Adam. "Good morning, Sisters. Have we anything already prepared for our guest to have for breakfast? We have a big day today." In a more normal voice, she inquired, "And perhaps two or so more of those wonderful pies for later? I can spare a quarter farthing if necessary."
Sitting there with his legs swinging back and forth, Adam looked around wide eyed. Though the kitchen was not opulent, it was probably more food to have access to than he had ever had. One of the sisters just looked over to Mary and nodded a bit. There was some breads and strawberries. As far as the pies went the nun excused herself, saying she would fetch some after she had handed Adam a plate with some food. Another nun slipping the boy some cheese to go with the rest.
Mary slipped a coin on the counter for the pies. Ordinarily it wouldn't be necessary, but St. Etheldreda's made a tidy sum of money by selling its internationally famous strawberries and products made from them. The lack of Catholics living in London meant that they could not rely on tithes or regular sponsored events to raise funds for their expenses. Even the salaries of the clergy were subsidized by the Vatican. Mary was better off than most living in London, and could afford to compensate them for the occasional pie. Or three. They were worth the extra exercise and confession of gluttony on Sunday. Of course, they had other ways of raising money, but they were most famous for their strawberries.
She bent her knees until she was on eye level with Adam, "I'm going just up the corridor to grab some things. We're in a hurry, so make sure to get that wrapped up and we'll eat it on the way to the Circus, okay? I'll be back in two minutes." Mary leaned her halberd on the wall next to the door and stepped outside. She poked her head back in for just a second, "But do try some of our church's good bread before I return. It is excellent."
Adam nodded with a mouth full of food already, giving her a tight lipped grin as he nodded his head excitedly. He was trying his best to keep the food in his mouth so it wouldn't spill out everywhere or leave crumbs all over himself.
Laundry was a few meters away, past a storeroom down the hall. She needed only to grab two things she had left in there the previous day. Stepping inside of the room was like walking into a sauna; the proximity of heated water and cool met in mid-air, forming a layer of steam across the top of the room and condensation upon the walls. Were it not for the attention of the women who labored here, Mary might have expected moss to begin growing along the edges of the room. She nodded briskly to the laundry attendants and quickly located the object of her search among the neat stacks of clean and dry. It was a bundle of white cloth, folded and bound in coarse twine. A tag attached identified it as hers, reading "M. Ignatia" was also a prominent clue. She undid the bow of twine and pulled away the white cloth, revealing her favored robe. It was long and white, hooded, and trimmed with a row of large, red triangles. As much a traveling coat as it was a robe, it seemed to fit Mary's personality: Pure, tough, classy, and edged in crimson. She immediately put it on over her cassock and brought her hood up, allowing her fiery red locks to spill around her shoulders some, and looked to the other item in the bundle. It was her Knight's cloak, the one she wore the previous evening, easily recognizable by the circled, equidistant cross of her Order stitched into the strong black fabric with silver thread. She rewrapped this and returned to the kitchen in a rush.
"Ready, Adam? There's a storeroom just over here next to Laundry you may change in." She took back her halberd and smiled expectantly at the boy.
Hopping down from his seat, Adam looked over towards Mary bright eyed. "Okay," he said as he rushed off with his things to change. Wrapped up in a bundle next to where he was sitting was the food that was packed for them, as well as several pies boxed up and ready. It wasn't long before he came rushing back out, looking much better than he had in his rags and it was clear that someone back in laundry had taken a cloth to his face and hands. They were scrubbed clean but a bit red. "Ready, can we go now?" he asked excitedly.
"Of course we may." responded Mary. "If you would please, carry the food for us? Thank you, Adam. Oh my, and you look very presentable. We must get you some sets of your own clothing, and a good hat besides."
"Really truly? My very own?" Adam asked excitedly. He had never had clothing meant just for him.
She busied herself with re-appropriating the twine that was around her laundry bundle, tying it around the boxes of pies for easier transportation. She draped the folded cloak over her forearm and utilized that hand to take up her halberd. The strong, nimble fingers of her free hand curled around the twine fastening the boxes of luscious fruity pies together. Thusly laden, she walked out, into the hallway, calling for Adam. "Follow me, child. We are headed back to Archives to pick up my papers, but just after we are going to the stables. You get to meet my warhorse, Cassius! He is a very handsome animal, Cassius. But we must hurry. One does not keep a Grand Duchess waiting."
With that, Mary began leading Adam back to the office of Sister Lazarus to recover the writ from her Order. Adam followed her quickly, falling in step beside Sister Mary as they made their way to see the sourpuss sister. Sister Lazarus looked over from her desk as the two walked in. "Here you are," she said as she tapped the writ on the desk before her head went back down and she went back to writing.
Mary set down the stack of pies to free up a hand, deftly taking her writ up from the desk. She spread it open as best she could with her thumb and forefinger, just enough to confirm the contents of the paper. Satisfied, she tucked it into her sporran bag and hefted up one of the strawberry confections from her bundle. "And here you are." she said, setting it down upon the corner of her desk. "Thank you so much for your haste, Sister Lazarus." Mary picked her stack of pies back up and resumed her walk to the stables, carefully ushering Adam out of the office and letting the door slowly come to behind them.
The day's mixed light filtered through the larger shrubs at the edges of St. Etheldreda's gardens, under which the pair of them walked with determined stride. Mary looked up to the sky, trying to determine what the weather may hold for them that day. She couldn't quite tell from her vantage point, not yet, anyway. Perhaps that would be a little more forthcoming after they got out under fully open skies. That would have to wait, as Mary and Adam passed under a large stone archway that led them from the church grounds proper and into the bailey, which contained (among other things) the common stables. "Almost there. Just across the yard."
The doors to the stables were opened wide, as it usually was during the hustle and bustle of the day. Mary strode confidently back to her reserved pen and greeted its inhabitant with a warm smile. "Adam, this is Cassius. Cassius, Adam." said Mary, introducing the two. The horse was a fine, dappled grey stallion with black socks and mane, truly a majestic animal for the newly anointed Dame Commander Mary Hale. "Cassius has been with me for a while now. He's as good a knight's horse as any I have witnessed."
Mary set down her load of pies, weapons, and textiles, then entered the pen. She lifted her saddle from the side of the railing, taking careful but urgent steps to ready her horse for travel. Saddle, tack, saddlebags, tethers, reins, and the few belongings they would be taking with them over the day. Mary needed a little help; she asked Adam to hand her the occasional item, but after a few minutes' time they were riding out of the front gate of the Ely Palace with Adam sitting in front of Mary, holding onto the bundle of food. The blessed steel of Mary's halberd rose above them like a vorpal, Catholic flag as they departed the grounds of their cathedral, en route to Regent's Park.
Location: (Outside of) Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park)
“Aghhha...” Constantin groaned as his head was starting to finally clear up. Everything seemed a lot bleeker than the whiteness that it was just lil few moments ago.” Head hurts... beating drums...” He mumbled some things, unable to understand just everything yet. Well then he heard cracks and his eyes snapped wide right away. Painfully he raised his head, looking about, noting the fog was disappearing and he could see Myshka a lot livelier. The cracking didn't bode well though and Veta was still under the ICE!
“VLAD! YOU ALRIGHT?” Constantin shouted, slowly nudging himself away from the edge of the ice so he can stand up properly.” Ve need to pull Veta outside the lake!” He added.
Vladimir's head whipped around to Constantin, hands still hovering over Myshka as the extent to his Krasnoye healing gift flowed into the massive cat. The words he heard gave Vlad pause, if but for a fraction of a second, before the stark realization that his fellow circus performer didn't hear a word he had said. Perhaps the younger firewalker bumped his head, or the great, flying, ebon monster had done something scrambling to his mind on the temporary. "ICE!" he shouted, drawing yet another knife and working doggedly at the ice again. "Save Myshka! Myshka save Veta!" ...Veta saves us all.
Myska growled as he tried to chip away more at the ice. His thrashing was breaking some of it away but it still wasn't enough for his shoulders to fit through so he could slip beneath the surface, and his claws wouldn't stay embedded in the ice so he could climb out. Each second that slipped by the bubbles coming up from where the grand duchess had plunged beneath the surface became less and less.
Constantin groaned one last time before finally getting up once he was a little away from the edge of the ice. Strangely enough his sabre was around so without further ado, he quickly started half sliding half losing balance over to where the tiger was still held frozen. It wasn't the greatest moment of his life, considering how clumsy he looked right now, but who cared about appearances right now.
"Едно...две... три!" He started counting as he kneeled by Myshka finally and on the third count he started chipping at the ice too. He had chosen to chip away near the front paws of Myshka. He figured if those were freed, a tiger's own leg strength would allow it to get freed or at least help loosen or crack the rest of the ice.
The sounds of cracking ice should have been more alarming to Vladimir, considering that the sounds were not necessarily where he was trying to break it, but his concern was not for personal safety. The ice collapsing might even be a boon to his efforts to free the tiger, even if it endangered himself. His life, in his own estimation, was worth little compared to that of the young lady beneath the ice. No matter how awe inspiring and important he found himself, he would gladly trade places with Veta right then, for the good of both her and his Sem'ya. But he could not. Nor could he go after her without the likelihood of killing them both with his inexpert efforts to navigate icy water.
But hope was not lost, even if it were slipping away with ever slowing bubbles from beneath hard ice. The fog had lifted, and Vladimir, even in his frenzy, could catch the Circus out of the corner of his eye, even hear the sounds of its inhabitants. He continued to hack away at the ice as best he could, trying to free the feline beast which was his immediate hope at Veta's salvation, but also raised his voice in a great shout back to his people among the wagons and tents. "Иди скорей! Нам нужна помощь! Теперь!" he bellowed, imploring anyone within range to move as quickly as possible to help them.
The ice was chipping away but Myska still hadn't managed to get free. The tiger was trying with all his might, ice chunks floating beneath him and coming up in the hole where Veta had plunged through. The circus folk though had finally heard the yelling and from the tent city, people carrying torches were finally running in the direction of of the three of them. A loud sound of a crack echoed as one of their foot hit the edge of the water and the man froze, afraid to take another step.
"BRING LONG ROPE! LONGEST!" Constantin shouted with all his might, still hitting at the ice." FASTER ALSO BRING BLANKETS!" He added. His father who was also by the edge of the ice didn't even appear to wait any moment before he dashed for the requested items. This ice was cracking it wouldn't survive long. There was also the case that Veta was under it for longer than safe... Chances were bad given the situation. This was a circus so naturally ropes weren't that hard to find.
"Vlad as soon as the rope's here, I will tie one end on me and jump after Veta. With us two breaking the ice won't be enough... we would fall before long if the ice cracks underneath us." He said, his expression was ashen. He had bloody insane fear of deep water, but leaving Veta under there was not acceptable... he couldn't accept it!" I will tie myself with the rope and jump after her... I may be able to find her in there..."
The Great Bazhooli, looking a bit less Great and sure of himself than his had in a long while, now merely looked like a mortally concerned father becoming more desperate to save the life of his girl. He heard Constantin's words barely, as if being spoken from far away. But he did hear them and shook his head to affirm this fact. If the younger man was willing to jump into the water beneath the ice, so be it. He was openly annoyed that Constantin was abandoning his own plan to free the tiger first, but with the possibility that his new idea may bear fruit, Vladimir was not going to stop him. Besides, he had his own hasty plans. With more people present their options may have increased, even if they could not set foot onto the declining ice near the shore. "Hammers!" he yelled to any in the crowd who would listen. "Bring hammers, немедленно! Myshka save Veta!"
This was a Circus. They had many such hammers, large utility ones, for the purpose of driving in the stakes of their largest exhibition tents among other uses. All he needed was a single good one to smash the ice around Myshka's shoulders, and he wasn't about to spare himself any exertion. He was tougher, stronger, more Russian, and his Veta was in growing peril. Still working the ice with his blade, Vladimir looked over the crowd until he spotted his son, Konstantin, among them. His eyes met the younger Alexandrov's and, though he spoke to everyone assembled, he kept his gaze steady. "GO NOW!"
The more people moved on the ice, chipped away at it, the more Myska thrashed, the more the ice cracked. Ropes were tossed out onto the ice, lengths of them held at one end by the circus, curls of it landing near or even on Vlad and Constantin. Myska tried to pull himself up on the ice, he wasn't fitting beneath it yet. Then the ice cracked again, he slipped, his jaw becoming lodged on the rim of where he was struggling to get free from. Yet what looked to be a horrible circumstance turned out to be for the better. His strong jaws bit through the ice and he managed to slip beneath the surface and out of sight into the dark murky waters below the ice.
Then things got much worse, the sudden shift in weight and upflow of water when Myska went under caused a surge and the ice beneath the two me finally gave way, sending them plunging into the icy water as well.
"Да!" Constantin had exclaimed when the tiger freed itself." Оо НЕЕЕЕЕ!" Was then his shout as everything around them cracked. There wasn't much time if any to react anymore. One moment they were on the ice, next everything was already cold. His only hope was to be lucky as he had tried to grab onto the ropes that were thrown at them before he was comepletely gone into the frozen abyss.
Vladimir fared no better than his fellow performer when the ice collapsed. The sudden moment of joy at seeing Myshka break free was quickly joined by his own alarming sense of self-preservation. He saw the rope, felt it even, but all bets were off when he began to rapidly descend into the ice and water beneath him. As he struggled for a solid grasp on one of the ropes thrown to him, he tried to content himself with the fact that, were he to leave this world his family would carry on his work, as Vladimir had done for his father. Of equal or greater importance, with the great white tiger free, Elizaveta stood a fighting chance at survival. The Great Bazhooli had done his duty.
Constantin somehow managed to grab the rope. He didn't even understand what happened really. One moment he was sinking grasping at the rope that seemed so distant and the next he had managed to grab a hold of it and locked his grip on it as an iron vice, refusing to let go. The abyss of the water seemed so much more frightening now that the goal of Veta was followed by Myshka.
Outside by the edge of the water, Constantin's father was holding onto the rope when he realized that there was indeed weight to it! The man had shouted for someone to help with the pulling, but he himself didn't wait for any help and started to pull the life saving rope. He had no way of knowing if he was pulling Vlad or Constantin, but there wasn't really a time to think. The ice was breaking, making everything that much harder, but eventually he saw Constantin show up from the water.
Even as the chill water swiftly began to swallow up the overly dramatic Vladimir, he had a look of determination on his face. For a fraction of a second, he wondered if he could stay down below the water and see where Veta was, maybe make sure that Myshka got to her in time. In his mind, it would be worth it to die with a clear soul, knowing she was safe. He almost didn't recognize the feel of a broad cord of rough hemp in his hand. When it began to drag him upward, he even felt a tiny twang of betrayal. As his head cleared the water, Vladimir inhaled sharply and scrambled atop the packed ice that had not yet fully fractured apart. He could not see anything along the surface; nothing of the tiger, nothing of Elizaveta. He continued to suck in lungfuls of clean air as the Sem'ya pulled him across the ice and back toward the shore. "Veta...? Anyvon see Veta?" If she didn't surface soon, Vlad was going back in.
Calum smiled a bit as he looked over towards Maeve but he looked away quickly as he cleared his throat. "Yes, my child," he said in a serious tone. Apparently there was more to this Parson than originally met the eye. The carriage pulled to a stop outside the city of Annan and there was a quick knock on the top of the carriage.
"Um, would you mind stepping out for a moment whilst I change?" he asked her. "I could not at the Inn, Nigel and all but I must be Father Blair by the time we reach the dress maker," he explained as he sat there nervously. His hands patting on his knees and waiting for Maeve to exit, or at least he hoped she would without much question.
The door of the carriage opened slowly and a hand held out for Maeve. "Do not worry. It is just Rory our carriage driver. Childhood friend of mine, trust him with me life."
Rory pulled down his dust cloth from his face and removed his hat. "Don't ya be worryin' none Miss," he said kindly towards Maeve.
England
Case Name: Time to go Location: London Time: As quickly as possible Reason: To get moving to meet Veta for Brunch Group: Sister Mary, Adam
You are finally on your way and now have to move through the streets and parks of London. Use the maps provided to get from the church to the Circus. Adam will mostly be eating as he rides along. Pm through out for updates on what Mary is seeing as far as people go and to see if any problems arise during the trip. 7 days!
Case Name: Death of a Garden Location: Crypt Manor (London) Time: An hour or two Reason: Try to figure why everything died and why only 1 thing grew - you can finally start lol Group: The Crypts
Alright, you are in the lab and in control now. Peter will take some time to get everything cleaned up and then he has to finish gathering plants and soils from the garden since he was kind of side tracked with the wolves carcass. Pm me for rolls you need as you try things to see what information you are able to ascertain.
The Glimmeric: Michael nodded a bit. "Good lad," he said as he got ready and gave a quick count. "On three, one, two, three," he said and with that he hefted the body up. Stepping carefully he shuffled over towards the cart and stepped up into it. Walking backwards with the help of Thalken to get the body fully into it before setting it down carefully. Grabbing the top most piece of wood he leapt over the side and back onto the street itself before wiping his hands off on his butchers apron. "Thank you kindly for the hand sir," he said in a kind voice before looking over towards Thomas.
"Alright lad, keep an eye on the place while I am gone. One of the hands of Glimmerics may be over before I return, set them up right nice you hear."
"Will do!" Thomas said, excited over the prospect of being left in charge even if only for a short time. Michael couldn't help but smirk a bit at the lad and ruffle his hair before he sent him off. The boy had been found eating rotten food on the streets behind the shop when he was about five, Michael had taken him in and for all accounts raised him as his own.
"Alright, let's get a move on. Mind helping me make sure he doesn't fall out of the cart as I take him over to Nuetermyre's?" Michael finally said looking over towards Thalken. He really didn't give the young man a chance to reply, simply stepping over to the front of the cart and lifting up the end before pulling it down the street and passed The Glimmeric. Inside Sally Ann had, with the help of some strong spirits, managed to pass out on her bed. She looked still so a fright as she lay there, her hands balled up into nervous fists as she whimpered in her sleep from time to time.
Regent's Park: Everyone from the circus was doing what they could to get Vlad and Constantin out of the water. Other were rushing back to the tent city to fetch blankets and more torches now that the fog had cleared. All of them confused to what had happened, why there was ice in the water, where the fog had come from. So many of them figured it was a Golgravtiz that had caused it, but that thought alone made many of their skins crawl. One this far outside the boarders of the Russian Empire? It was unheard of.
Sister Sophia was there, looking torn between worried and livid. "Vhere is she?!" she demanded to know looking towards Vlad as finally he and Constantin were pulled to the shore and to dry land. There was a rush of bubbles from beneath the surface and then everything went coldly still. Sister Sophia's hand coming to her lips, trembling at the stillness of the water at this point. Then from the darkness a paleness could be seen growing in intensity and side until Myska's head broke the surface and he began swimming towards the shore. It looked for a moment as if Veta was no where to be seen until the pale color of her skirt could be seen in the large animals jaws and her body floated to the surface behind him. She was face down and unmoving.
Westminster Hospital: Doctor Graham looked over towards Fyror at his exclamation. He let the young man go as his attention was torn back to Mrs. Wyndham. "What is HE doing here?" she demanded to know.
"It is nothing to concern yourself with Mrs. Wyndham. Now, do tell me why I am hearing you a floor above? You should be resting dear woman," he said in a clam voice. Mrs. Wyndham wasted no time retelling the tale of Gerard and his stepping out of line and forgetting his place. The way she made it sound he was devil incarnate.
"I see, well I do say. Seems the man has been put in his place. Shall we move on?" he asked before continuing and not giving the woman a chance to stop him. He was used to these high brow patients. "It seems that no matter what anyone thinks your daughter is missing at this point."
"Step-daughter," Mrs. Wyndham snapped before rolling her eyes. "She is just doing this to torment me. Punishment for pushing her to marry. She's too googoo eyed over men who are far below her," she continued as Fyror came back in. Shooting both Fyror and Gerard a stern look. "Like those two. That one she is constantly out in the stables reading with and that one, oh you should have seen her last night dancing with him. Completely scandalous when she knew there was a proposal coming from Lord Rutherford! Her not being her is her way of punishing me," Mrs. Wyndham sad fanning herself and looking like she ~had the vapors~
"Millicent cares nothing for what she does to my poor mother," Emma stated as she sat down next to her mother and comforted her. Dr. Graham's lips thinned a bit.
"I see, well then we should find her. If anything to put your mind at ease and so that you can punish her rightly," he said as he turned around and looked over towards Fyror. His eyes rolling deeply at his own words. Swallowing the anger growing in him he turned back around to look at Mrs. Wyndham and forced a reassuring smile. "I will inform the authorities and we will find her for you. Bring her here post haste to face your justice."
"Yes, right, do that. And take those two from my sight!" she snapped. Dr. Graham gave her a curt nod before looking at Gerard and Fyror.
"If you two gentlemen would come with me, I would be most grateful," he said before stepping out of the door and down the hallway a bit. Turning around and waiting on them to join her and hoping to god the last one to leave the room slammed the door behind them just to make that woman jump a bit.
