[IC] 🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

[Lady Absinthia]

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Ludwig Zimmer

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Location: Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth
Skills: Kielkropf, Smoyler, Ferret Handling

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It was days like this, well nights like this, wait was it night? It could be, it wasn't when he arrived but he had been there sometime. Oh at least he thought he had. Pressing his hands to his chest, then his back pocket, then another, then his front, then eventually patting himself down he located the item which he was searching for; his pocket watch. It was in his vest pocket watch pocket. Of course it was. Looking at the time he tilted his head quizzically to the left and to the right. It read 8:15. But was that morning or night? If it was morning, he could be tired. Or not. He had been jaunting around on his mighty steed and that was a time he enjoyed and became lost in. He would be as bushy as a squirrels tail no matter the time. Yet it could be night, his stomach didn't feel as if it had a thousand Nachzehrer fighting over scraps within. So it was probably night time.

Maybe but how could one tell when they were inside? Looking around he was pretty sure he was inside. He was a scholar, he could figure this out. Granted just thinking back to whether or not he had passed an entrance was not as easy as all that when one was so small. Three inches changed one perspective. Looking at his feet, his brows rose in unison and in a fascinating manner, causing his glasses to slip from the top of his nose down to the little button tip. Squinting his eyes together he reached up and pushed them back up. Now he was ready to examine such an interesting item that lay at hit feet. It was really remarkable, very much so. At least he thought it was until he squatted down and took a closer look. Dirt, it was just dirt. That wasn't anything interesting. But it did mean he could be outside. Or in the mouth of a Mossgapping Tweedle Knocker!

What is a Mossgapasing Tweedle Knocker? He pondered that for a moment for he had never heard of one before. Now that did sound interesting and the look that said it was so was plastered on his features as his mouth fell agape in deep consideration. Oh the possibilities. This was something his mind could wrap around until he was sure it was morning, or until he as sure it was night the next day but the ground trembled around him and he snapped back to reality. Knees bending and hands flying out as he tried to keep his balance. It was an earth quake! Or was it? It could be the Mossgapping Tweedle Knocker on a charge! If so, what was he do to? Be trampled? There was nothing to do about it, he would be trampled, here in this very uninteresting dirt. Then the shaking stopped, or it did't stop but he stopped feeling it. Why? Had the monstrosity perished?

No, he had risen off the ground. Small delicate wings that looked like ones that would be found on a dragon fly fluttered for every twitch his body made, which in the end meant they were in a constant blurry motion. He grinned, he had saved himself! Of course he had. He had wings, he could fly! Yes, fly away from his dirt, this darkness, and all these green things that surrounded him. Yes, fly up and see what was going on, where he was, and what time of day it was. It was all so simple and so he did! Flew right up. The light that was so dull before was growing now in intensity as he came to the top of a large leaf (4 inches across was huge!) and looked around. He was inside!

Yes, now he remembered. He had gone into a tent. There was such a commotion outside that he had to get inside, or at least direct his valiant steed inside so they would not be trampled by Mossgapping Tweedle Knockers! Or was it horses? No, horses were of no interest. He hated riding horses. Why he rode a ferret. Why? Because he could. They had darted into an empty tent. His steed had taken refuge somewhere and he had explored. There was a plant in the room. It was starting to make sense now. Everything was fine, it was night, he was inside, and he was alone. It was all good.

No, it wasn't. There were people in there now! His wings froze and he landed hand on the leaf, sliding down it and the stem until he landed face first back into the very uninteresting dirt. Spatting out the large particles he sighed to himself. That was not how he wanted things to go. How had he wanted things to go? He didn't know but he was sure this wasn't it. It tasted as if he had just eaten privy full of worm remains. Okay time to move and get out of there before they got comfortable. They had just entered, not sitting as of yet. Turning he darted out the backside of the potted plant and flew down to the table and then to the ground below. It was anything but graceful. His arms flailing about and his torso rotating this way and that yet he pulled it off as he was able to make it to the edge of the tent, and duck outside.

The place was very busy, a lot of people mulling about. Did they know what was going on? Did they know their lives could be in danger if the Mossgapping Tweedle Knocker was to come about? Wait, no, they wouldn't need to worry about such. They resided in marches and swamps didn't they? Did they? He had never heard of a Mossgapping Tweedle Knocker before, or had he? Wait, he had, just five minutes ago he had remembered them! So this was the second time he heard of them, that made them very possible at this point! Very possible indeed! His mouth went agape again as he was lost in thought to just what these things looked like. He would have remained there the rest of the night but he wasn't given the chance as a large pink wet piece of flesh pressed against his cheek. That snapped him out of it. The Mossgapping Tweedle Knocker was apon him!!!

Wait, no it wasn't. It was just his trust steed, Dieter. Smiling like a Granny Nichner Pog he patted his old friend and climb aboard. Wait, Granny Nichner Pog? What was that? It was something to think on but not now, now he rode! To the top of the Ferret, to the top of the wall, now dash away, dash away, dash away all! And so he did. Grabbing a fistful of fur and moving out. Dieter wove along the edge of the tents and across the paths between. Oh how he loved ridding like this. Dieter was so quick, had he fallen under the spell of a... Straw!

It was coming down from above, it was raining straw! "Bettnässen Seiche Eimer!" he exclaimed as he completely forgot that when was Kielkropfing his body may have shrunk, his voice did not! Jumping off Dieter he knew he had to stop this nonsense lest he be buried in hay. Resting his hand on Dieter he blinked and within that blink of n eye the world swirled around him and the wind picked up as he shot out of the ground, like a daisy! With a Ferret in his hand. Grinning brightly as he coddled Dieter he looked at the man dropping straw everywhere.

"Oh um, hello, yes, good evening."

Translations

1) Bed-wetting piss bucket

[mnkee]

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Thalken Talink

[Enter Brooding Here.]

- "Cold" by Five Finger Death Punch

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Location: Talink Estate --> Trafalgar Square
Skills: None at this time

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"Take me to the tent city!" Thalken growled at the carriage driver as he stalked out of the manor. He promptly entered the carriage and slammed the door closed behind him. He plopped down onto the seat with a resigned sigh. "This is a god damn mess," he grumbled as he ran a hand over his face and through his short brown hair. He then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and to stare, or rather glare, down at the floor of the carriage. He was jerked slightly in his seat as the carriage finally pulled away from the Talink Estate. He did not care enough to look back at the home and the life he was leaving behind. It was just that, behind him. Well, it was psychically but clearly not mentally. Good riddance, he thought with such bitterness in his heart.

Once a sufficient enough time had passed by, and the Talink Estate was all but left behind in the dust, he finally sat upright again. His dark eyed gaze looked out the window at the passing scenery, not that he cared or had any emotional attachment to what he saw. At the moment, he couldn't think straight. This was all just a sensory overload for him, and he was left feeling frazzled and dull. His stomach was twisted into knots, and he felt a sense of foreboding at the uncertain path that laid before him. After all, the transition between a life lived in the shadows to finally feeling the light of day on your skin could certainly do that to a person.

When he did find the Lady Crypt, what was he to say? Why would she even trust him after all that had happened? Why would anyone trust him? His jaw clenched as he sat there brooding in the relative silence of travel. Then there was that Catholic lady Mary Hale that Virginia was meeting. The last time he saw the apostolic woman she had put a gun to his head. Imagine what she would do to him now. He won't be much use to anyone if he's dead. "God dammit," he muttered as he looked out the carriage window. At this point, they had made it to Trafalgar Square without a hitch.

[Morose]

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Elizaveta Romanova, Sister Mary Ignatia Hale, and Virginia Crypt

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
Skills: Tretiy Glaz (Elizaveta/Passive)

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Elizaveta glanced over to her uncle by affection and gave him a soft smile as her head bobbed in the slightest of acknowledgements. "I have no doubt that my announcement vill be nothing less than perfection," she told him. Turning her attention to Virginia she shook her head slightly. "Think nothing of it. There is no debt to pay. Vatching over a child never should require payment or debt." The Grand Duchess thought it was odd that Virginia would say such a thing, perhaps things were done differently in England than they were in the Circus.

"Yes, privacy vould be best for ve have much to discuss and little time, let us retire to my tent," Elizaveta suggested to the two women and motioned over to her home within the Circus before giving a dove like chuckle to James. "Everything will become clear soon. Nov, you two, have fun with Myska, he listen," she said gently.

"My names Adam," he said to James before looking over at Myska as Elizaveta spouted something off in Russian to Petrov. He nodded and took control of the boys for her.

"I have seen him out run a horse to take it dovn and devour it," he said as he picked up Adam and placed him on Myskas back before motioning for James to come to him so he could place him on Myska as well. "Come, ve go for run."

Elizaveta smiled and turned towards her tent. "They will have fun, this vay please," she said as she started for her tent. It wasn't an uncommon thing, in fact to this day Elizaveta was known to ride Myska through the tent causing all sorts of havoc when the mood struck her. It was rare but she still did it from time to time.

The Great Bazhooli bowed deeply, potentially leaving one to wonder how he kept his tall, black hat upon his head as he did so. "Ov course, Grand Duchess. Is what Viktor does, better than any. You vill be centerpiece of attention, eyes drawn to you like snow upon mountain peak." Briefly, he began to consider the full implications of Virginia's words. "Dearest alabaster Lady Crypt, for please, realize that vith important guests, our people vill be guarding against outside peoples coming in. Tent City is circus and guests of circus only, and no von is allowed into Grand Pavillion Tent. Von of "Talinks" not invited; vhat happens, happens." He shrugged, "Even if must happen vith axe."

"Спасибо," Elizaveta stated towards Vlad, she knew things were in good hands with him making sure of things while she was dealing with other matters. The man had the best hands in the Circus. There was no denying that.

Pausing in thought, Vladimir remembered that he had met two of the family that Virginia had named, one of which he had peered into the soul of. It was the woman, sister to the one that Mary had held at gunpoint. Yes, he knew exactly the ones, and apparently there were more of them who intended harm to young James. Mary remembered them, too. Thinking back on it, her friend might have been spared had she pulled the trigger the previous evening, although without appropriate cause or provocation that would have been a sin most cardinal. However, it is not murder to defend the lives of others. "Certainly. Let us discuss this, and other matters, with discretion and haste." She followed Elizaveta back to her tent.

The Circus' generosity was more than Virginia had hoped to imagine. No one seemed to even hesitate when she explained that the Talinks would be an issue that would potentially take an axe to handle or that James would need to be attended. While Elizaveta insisted that there was no need for repayment, she made a mental note to speak to Alfred about liberating some funds to donate to the Russian Circus. Virginia cast a last look at James, noticing how cheerful he was with Adam, Petrov, and Myska, before she followed Mary and Elizaveta to the tent.

Once inside the tent, Elizaveta motioned towards the soft velvet padded short benches in her tent. They were a customary item in any place where women had to deal with long gowns and many layers of petticoats. No backing to a chair made it easier to sit and Elizaveta felt they were better than the floor and pillows at this point, especially considering how much heft her gown and cloak had. "Apparently there is much to discuss. Let us address safety first, of little James. I knov not exactly vhat is occurring with your family but I do knov vhat I sav in his eyes. Vhat do you need precisely?"

Mary found a bench and leaned her polearm against it. It was customary at this time for the person of higher social standing to have the floor when beginning the conversation in earnest, else the person who had the grievance. As Virginia had already divulged the difficulty involving her little brother James and Elizaveta had taken the initiative to ask for greater detail, a thing that Mary wanted as well, she took a conversational backseat and merely listened for the meantime. If question or comment came to mind, Mary would express it. But for now she contented herself with removing her long white robe, revealing a fitting black cassock, chain rosary, and her more lethal tools of her occupation. She hung the robe upon the backspike of her halberd, checked the soundness of her pistol, and carefully sat down to listen to what Virginia had to say. Veta had offered the protection of the Circus, Mary that of the Vatican. Perhaps a detail in the conversation would give her greater understanding of the wants and needs of the Crypt family.

Virginia looked at Elizaveta with some curiosity, as she mentioned that she had seen something in James' eyes. She assumed that it had to be a Russian skill and just like her brother, she initially wished to understand it. Yet her concern for him dominated her psyche. What exactly did she need? She required assistance, but that in itself was vague. There were two threats to James and her family - one unknown, the Talinks being the other. Her father had sent word, instructions as to what she must do. But James could not journey with her - it would be too dangerous for him. He was a little too young to die in misadventure. "Shelter for James from those who wish to do him harm - the Talinks and whomever left the note in blood," Virginia answered. "I know that you, Dame Commander, have offered the protection of the Vatican should I name you his godmother. While he would be protected, I worry that he would lose the childhood beloved by all Crypts...That he would never learn to dance a Mamushka or play Wake the Dead on a dark night."

Elizaveta was contemplative for a moment, looking at the situation that Virginia was presenting to them. It was not a pleasant one to say the least yet she had an idea and it was rather obvious. "Then James stay vith Circus under their care. Learn the Mamushka, assign guardian over him. He be safe, he learn to dance, to twirl the blades. Have children his age to play vith, elders to look up too. Be provided for, best training, off season in the Carpathians, and see vorld vhile being protected. Crovn vill take on expenses. Ve talk to Baron Alexandrov, Vlads father."

Mary maintained her serene exterior, seemingly a permanent fixture of hers. It allowed her to keep her internal thoughts internal, much like a particularly holy poker face. This seemingly innocuous trait also gave her the unique ability to convey complex thoughts by changing the tiniest of details about her face. One such occurrence transpired when Virginia mentioned the game beloved and familiar to the Crypt family: Wake the Dead. The mild furrows occupied her forehead and her eyes narrowed as she turned her head ever so slightly toward her friend. Mary could only guess as to the nature of said game, though her acquaintance with the family led her to question whether or not it may involve talking boards and/or shovels. The Bible, as utilized by the Catholic Church, was extraordinarily fuzzy about its stance on either possibility. Whichever, both, or neither case, it would not surprise her.

"I am forced to concede that the Russian Grand Circus would be a more appropriate fit for the young Viscount, even from what little I have witnessed during my limited time here. I do not believe that this place is safer than Vatican City, though I do not believe that any place is. There is also the stark truth that one must arrive there first to be put within its protection." Mary knew that lesson better than most. Her journey to the seat of Catholic power was soaked in blood and she barely made it there alive, alone in a strange land where she did not yet know the language. "Be that as it may, I do wish to have a hand in ensuring James's safety. Perhaps something can be established on his behalf with the meeting tonight. Otherwise, I can state that the resources of the Church here in London are at his disposal, and that my sword is pledged to his defense. His enemies, dead and living, are my enemies."

Virginia considered Elizaveta's offer carefully. From what she had been told, her family once had been close with the Russian Circus or the Crown. With this being the case, she imagined what she would wish for her own child, as well as what her mother and father would recommend. While James showed some interest in Catholicism, it was mostly centered on the Inquisition. With the Russian Circus, he could learn the dance with immense family importance to them. The death defying ways of the Circus would suit him well, nurturing the little pyrotechnic in one of their crafts.

And above all else, he would be safe and secure. He could wade into the darkness on his own terms once he was ready. Virginia finally nodded. As much as she did not wish to leave her brother, to take him with her on her upcoming journey would be too much. "I think James would be quite happy here at the Circus," Virginia agreed. "I can send word to Alfred to prepare his things - as well as my copy of our family records, so that way he may remember and honor his history." The choice was hardly easy on Virginia and it showed. In many ways, her voice was tired and drained. "We Crypts are not without means as well - please, do allow me to make a donation to the Circus. Were my father here, I am certain he would thank you both from the bottom of his heart to the top of his skull. I must thank you for being willing to offer protection to dear James."

"Then ve vill speak to the Baron as soon as we are done here and before ve have to deal vith the Graveolase this evening. Everything will be arranged and we can vork out details at that time," she said wanting to get through as much as possible as quickly as possible. Elizaveta was not one to dawdle once something was settled. "On to next point of business. Myself and others in Circus have had visions. It is part of Russian skill knovn as Tretiy Glaz. From vhat ve can piece together, your friend Miss Wyndham is in dire trouble. Ve knov not vhat everything means but there is pain, suffering, symbols of marriage, and Scotland. After speaking with Mary and her informing me of some customs in this part of the vorld, it has been concluded she is most likely being forced to The Green? Is that right?" Elizaveta asked Mary to confirm what she had heard and if she had the name correct.

Mary nodded in agreement before responding vocally. "Yes, Grand Duchess. If the visions are interpreted correctly, the most logical place they would be headed is a township called Gretna Green, called "The Green" by many familiar with it. Laws concerning marriage differ in Scotland, but are upheld by the Crown here in England. Gretna Green is notorious for couples eloping, or who desire legal marriage without the wait and scrutiny associated with British Commonlaw." She shook her head gravely, "There are those who exploit this for their own agenda, and marriages at knifepoint, figurative and literal, can occur."

Virginia was afraid of this, yet rather than her blood turning to ice, it instead began to boil - figuratively speaking, of course. It had been a while since any Crypt claimed that their blood had boiled - and if Virginia's memory served her correctly, it had been a particularly insane one, even by Crypt standards. From Elizaveta's and Mary's descriptions, the situation for Millicent was more dire than had initially appeared. Lord Rutherford must have forcibly taken her to Gretna Green, just after a night of tragedy for many of the ton - Millicent included. "Then we must act quickly. From what I have gathered, she had accepted the courtship of Lord Rutherford, one of the most vile men in England. She has a significant dowry and it is possible that after a marriage at knifepoint, her throat may be slit - or perhaps her spirit broken. To rescue her from such unneeded sorrow and suffering, travel must begin tonight."

Translations

Спасибо - Thank you

[Sigil]

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Vladimir Alexandrov

"The Great Bazhooli"

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
Skills: Fal'shbort, Tretiy Glaz

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The three women safely absconded to the privacy of Elizaveta's tent, leaving Vladimir to his own devices in the grander area of the Tent City. It was an interesting place, this temporary village of canvas and wood. It rarely had exactly the same layout every time it was pitched, yet the people who called it home had no difficulty finding their way around, as if by instinct or a sense of unity with one another that could not quite be given justice with mere description. Vladimir had spent more of his life within it than without, though what passed for his "home" in a permanent sense would be either in the Romanian territory of Moldova within the Carpathian Mountains or the more official seat of power for the Barony, St. Petersburg. Vladimir did not mind touring the latter, as it had more people and hence more money to be made for the Circus, but he personally would rather cool his heels in the off season (when he actually took a season off) in the Carpathian Mountains of Moldova. They had lovely property there. And it was closer to the origins of his people, the Rusyn.

Wistful thinking about his people and their amazing traveling lifestyle aside, The Great Bazhooli was not a stupid man. There were suddenly within the confines of his Grand Tent City three women of importance: A Noble of local standing and famous lineage, a Catholic Knight who inherited a coveted position, and the Grand Duchess of the Russian Empire. And all three of them were speaking privately. Something was up. Hopefully, all it involved was the upcoming meeting with the Graveolase and their respective parts to play within it. That reason would have been enough by itself to warrant some time to themselves.

Then there was the boy, James. Virginia had brought the boy in at Mary's behest, with the Grand Duchess offering the aid of the Circus. Whether that was just for the evening or on a more permanent basis was knowledge he was not privy to, though he would most definitely get answers about sooner or later. Knowing the nature of Veta, and his father, The Baron Dmitri Alexandrov, it would probably be later. For now, he had to verify the security of his home. Again. Before getting back to his family. Again.

With speed and grace that could only come from decades of training, Vlad dashed to the main entrance to the collection of tents, pavilions, and vardos that served as the Tent City of the Russian Imperial Circus. He informed the circus folk stationed there to restrict all unnecessary traffic, and spread the word down to the other points and the frequent shift changes. No outside persons allowed in due to the recent attack on Veta and the presence of the Graveolase, period. He made mention of one or two more bits of protocol (not that he would ever call it "protocol", which was a very dry word) that were specific to the evening.

When he was certain that they fully understood, he departed the area, hopefully to rejoin with his people and hammer out the last details of their performance for the evening.

[rivaan]

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Constantin Kolev

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Location: The Tent City.
Skills: Tretiy Glaz,Fal'shbort

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The firewalker had returned with the second bale of straw to be sure to cover up the bloody patch good. Luckily straw was in availability. As a traveling circus they needed it in good amount and so it was there. Grabbing the second one and spreading it about the place where his kinsman/woman died just little before felt really weird, but nothing to be done about it.

“Aaaa що за дяволи!?” Constantin halted in his movements as a rather loud voice in a language not usually spoken in the tent city rang somewhere from right before and under him. Then something big appeared from the straw with great speed, sending straw everywhere.

The firewalker naturally jolted backwards, dropping the straw bale to the ground, reaching for his saber that was on his waist. He eyed the man from top to toes, studying him for a moment as the man greeted him. This now caused a little of an eyebrow arch from the firewalker before he nodded.” Good evening to you too.” He naturally greeted, without removing his hand from the handle of the weapon.” Now, vho are you and vhat are you doing here?” He questioned with stern serious voice, eyes locked on the man still, though not before noting he was holding a ferret which made him appear even weirder all things considered. They had ferrets here, but... no people who could grow up from nothing like that. Or was he there and Constantin just didn't notice him somehow? Too many questions and given what had transpired earlier, Constantin was not in the mood to take chances." Someone call the Greath Bazhooli! We've got intruder with unknown povers!"

Translation

“Aaaa що за дяволи!?” = " Aaaaah what kind of devils!?" Rough translation that can also be understood as 'What the hell!?'

[Lady Absinthia]

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Ludwig Zimmer

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Location: Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth
Skills: English, Gothic, Observation, Mental Stamina, Ferret Handling

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Oh that moment of change always left his head swimming slightly, as if there was a moment it wasn't swimming though. Swimming, through the waters of space and time, through distant places. He was Gulliver and these were his travels. He had just left Brobdingnag apparently through the forest of straw and hay and was now in the middle of a wonderland. It was better than being in the world of tiny people, Glindermachs or even worse being one of those horrific Cobblewinchester Muffins. How they did enjoy crawling into the ear of people and getting wrapped up in the mind. They loved snuggling up in the folds of the gray matter. Sadly, it caused the most horrific headaches and then BOOM! What many thought of as Spontaneous Combustion was nothing more than Cobble induced brain blow out. Quite horrifying and yet remarkable at the same time. It would carry those little Muffins hundreds of yard to new destinations that would have taken decades on their little feet.

Right good way to travel when looked at from that perspective. Was that how he got where he was. Where was he? How had he gotten there? Oh yes, he had brought himself riding on his mighty steed, which was now cradled in his arms and being handled gently. Holding Dieter close to his chest his face squished up and relaxed, then squished again. His glasses dancing along the bridge of his nose, up and down each time he did. Dust on his glasses, straw in his hair, dirt on his clothing. His mouth agape as he turned around slowly, looking up into the air and towards the sky. "₁Ja, jetzt definitiv draußen." His hand coming up and pointing at the stars that were shining above. He finally had an answer to the question that he had asked himself sometime ago. Why he had the answer now and not earlier was beyond him, he must have been distracted by something.

What could have sent him mind off the path more traveled? Oh yes, there was a sword pointed at him. Why would someone point a sword at him? It must have been his ferret. The man was talking to him, not in his birth tongue. That would make things difficult. If they could not speak and not communicate how could he let him know that his ferret was nothing to fear and that he could put the sword down. This was going to be complicated. Wait, he understood. How? Had the Bablebrillance got stuck in his ear? Oh, that was ludicrous, they didn't live this far north. Well that left only three hundred more explanations but thankfully he settled on one quickly. The man was speaking a language he already knew. That narrowed it down to three. He tried one. "₂Nun, wer bist du und was machst du hier?" No, that didn't sound like what the man had just said. Try again... ₃£arjis si iqgar jah £ê galeiks?" No, that was it either. Three times a charm? "Now, who are you and what are you doing here?" Now that was close by god!

"English? Yes, English is close enough," he figured. The man said some words oddly but it would have to do for he was out of languages to try. Not to inform him of things most important. "Dieter is just a ferret, he will not bite. Lower your sword. It is silly to hold a polecat at blade point," he rambled as he held his hand out and slowly slipped Dieter into his bag. Pressing his hand to his chest he stepped closer to Constantin. His head tilted to the side as he did and his lips crinkled as he licked them. "People will think you're mad and trust me, that is not a good thing for them to think. So put the sword down and I promise," he said as he made a crossing motion over his chest, "I won't ever tell even the hornswaddles that you held a ferret up."

Biting hit bottom lip bother his eye brows raised high on his face and then came crashing down as they furrowed deeply. Why was he in the circus? Tapping his foot his fingers started twitching as he seemed to write, draw, and grab things in the air. His mouth falling agape again for he was in deep thought and everything improbable was very probable to him. Then his eyes seemed to light up as he snapped his fingers. His arms waving in the air as he looked back over to Constantin. "Have the Graveolase arrived yet? I was at the council chambers but told that there was a change in venue." He was midway into reaching into his bag to pull out an envelop when bounding towards him was something he had not expect.

A white creature which had eight legs, four arms, three heads, two torsos, and one tail! "₄Bettnässen Seiche Eimer!" he yelled as he jumped up, his arms flailing. He did not run, no there was something in his way. Constantin. He jumped, onto the front of Constantin. Legs wrapping around the mans waist, one arm over his shoulder to hold himself there. "₅Lauf! Lauf um dein Leben! Es ist der Veterblarg!" he yelled. It wasn't until he has slipped down the length of Constantin and found himself hugging the mans knees did he actually take a close look at the creature that was rushing by them now and off into the distance, darting through the tents as it went.

Slowly he got up, rolling his hips as he brushed himself off and peeked into his bag. "Dieter?" he asked, checking and the Ferret popped his head out. Smiling he looked back over to Constantin. "Just a tiger, nothing to worry about." Crossing his legs as he stood there he fell forward at the hip slightly and pulled a piece of straw off Constantins jacket. The mans accent finally registering in his mind and his head twisted nearly like an owls as he righted himself. "Oh, I'm Ludwig... You are Russian? Ahh! I must be at the Circus! Glad I found you! It wasn't easy I can tell you that much!"

Translations

1 - Yes, most definitely outside now.
2 - Now, who are you and what are you doing here?
3 - Now, who are you and what are you doing here?
4 - Bedwetting Piss Bucket
5 - Run! Run for your life! It is the Veterblarg!

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Millicent Wyndham

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Location: Heaton Hall, Heaton Park, Manchester, England
Skills: Country Knowledge (England), Diplomacy

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So many had fled London due to the attack on Almacks the night before. Many had not even waited out the night and had arrived in Manchester by carriage earlier that evening. Word was sent ahead of them by Stage Post. The season was already in swing so it was not much for the people of Manchester to prepare for the arrivals that would be coming through the city. Some had opted already not to go to England as of yet for it was early in the season still. One such was the Second Early of Wilton, Thomas Egerton. The man preferred the life in Manchester to that in London no matter what duties called him to the capital city.

Looking out of the window of the carriage as the curtain was finally drawn back Millicent found herself studying the area as best she could at this dark hour. Much of the countryside looked like the rest but thankfully Millicent was able to start piece things together as they passed different manors, crossed bridges, and more. Eventually she was able to figure out that they were now in Manchester. They had made decent time despite everything that kept trying to hold them up. If God was watching over her, he would have to work harder to stop Rutherford from getting her to Gretna Green before it was too late. Yet why would anyone stop it? She wouldn't. She still had to protect her sister from this man. It was marriage or kill him and she was no murder, at least not yet.

The thought had crossed her mind; every time his fingers curled into her flesh, every time his lips wet her skin, every time... Yes, she had thought about killing him. About how it would feel to let the cold steel of her blade cut through the warm muscles, through each artery and vein, letting the blood pour from his throat. At this point it was one of the few things that cause the corner of her mouth to curl up and crate a smile on her face that her fiance could not understand. Yet it was nothing more than a day dream for now. Her sister had to be protected and she knew her step mother would not do it. If Millicent were to refuse, Emma would be married off quicker than one could blink and happily so.

The carriage pulled up to Heaton Hall, a home which Millicent had been to as a child with her father before her training. He had business in Manchester due to the docks and the textiles. She did as well but she kept it to correspondence since she had taken over for her father in his absence. The first Earl of Wilton had been friends of the family and business associates of the Wyndhams. Millicent though had yet to meet the Second Earl even though he was running things now and was close to age. Looking up at the Hall as Rutherford pulled her from the carriage she sighed inwardly. Seemed they were having a crush this evening. That was the last thing Millicent wanted to endure. Another ton party. One every Gentry and Peer in the area had been invited to attend. Yet there was nothing to do about it as she was escorted through the front doors, through the Saloon, down the hallway and straight to the formal garden.

"Lord Rutherford, excellent to see you again," Lord Egerton said as he twirled the edge of his mustache before glancing over towards the woman standing next to Rutherford. "And just who is this lovely creature?" he asked as he held a gloved hand out to her.

"Why Thomas, this is my fiance. Millicent Wyndham," he said as he tensed his hand against the small of her back. Millis large brown eyes shot up from the ground and she looked towards Lord Egerton.

"Wyndham? You are Benedicts daughter?" he asked as he took her hand. Millicent steeled herself.

"That I am," she replied as she stood there, letting him kiss the back of her gloved hand. It was never a custom that she enjoyed but it was better than her fiances touch by a mile.

"It is wonderful to finally put a face to all those correspondences. Had I known that you were as lovely as your penmanship, I would have made an effort to meet you face to face long before this," he said as he released her hand. Millicent wondered just how much this man was like her fiance. Business dealings were similar to relations she was finding and he had always been a bit brutish on that end. If he kept company with Rutherford, it was not lending well to his character in her eyes.

"I wish you had," Millicent said and she felt Rutherfords grip tighten on her. "If only so that you could have been witness to Richards proposal," she followed up and she felt the grip loosen somewhat. It took everything in her not to yelp in pain. Her dress might have covered the bruises, minus those that were expertly hidden beneath her makeup and the dark shadows cast in the garden, but it did not mean that her entire body did not ache and cry out with each movement she made.

"I am sure it was unforgettable knowing you Richard. Tell me, when did it occur?" he asked as he motioned for them to follow him for a walk through the glass encased garden.

"At Almacks just before the attack actually," Richard recounted. Turning he took Millicents hand and looked down at her, brushing back a loose curl from her face. "Rest here my darling, this is not something you should be subjected to twice." His words were like ice in her veins yet she couldn't even bring herself to snatch her hand away from his. Rutherford brought his attention back to the Earl. The two went back and forth speaking of the attack as Millicent was left at a bench for she was too delicate to relive such a tragedy in their minds.

In truth she did feel weak recounting it and was more than grateful for the respite from Rutherford. Her sister had died that evening, a part of her had as well; whatever innocence she had had left at least. Hopes, dreams, were shattered and gone. Feeling her fingers curl against the cold granite of the bench which she sat on she brought a silk handkerchief to her eye and dabbed away the tears. She felt utterly lost and alone, in a well of darkness that was becoming overwhelming to fight back no matter the words going through her mind from her father. Pressing her hand to her stomach she felt sick and yet dead inside, it was a feeling that could not be put into words.

Unknown to Millicent, two were riding as fast as the carriage could carry them towards Manchester yet they were still far behind. If God (Or LLA in this case) looked favorably on them, they would arrive in Manchester come the breaking of the dawn.

[Morose]

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Elizaveta Romanova, Sister Mary Ignatia Hale, and Virginia Crypt

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---

Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
Skills: Tretiy Glaz (Elizaveta/Passive), English (Elizaveta), Diplomacy (Elizaveta), Negotiations (Virginia), Leadership (Virginia)

---

"Agreed and vithout a vord to anyone outside of this tent for if any vere to catch vind of our plans it could mean true disaster for all involved. Circus vould try to top me or come vith. I do not knov vhat church vould do or council considering vhat is occuring here in London. And ve do not vish to think of vhat Rutherford vould do if vord vere to get to him before ve do. Vould he do vorse to her? Not something v should linger on," Elizaveta said as she rose form her place and smoothed the front of her gown down. Lacing her fingers together she rested them in front of her and glanced over towards Mary. It had been just the two of them but she would not deny Virginia the chance to deal with Rutherford personally for a friend. Virginia had more right to go than they did.

"What is happening in London is happening in a lot of places," responded Mary, "and when The Church honored me with my new title, I received greater autonomy. The decision to act or investigate is my own, their counsel notwithstanding, unless ordered otherwise by the Grand Cross or His Holiness. Yet I promised not to breathe a word and I mean not to, for just the reasons you have stated. I do have concern about Adam's care during this, however."

"I vould like to suggest that young little Adam remain with Circus as vell, for nov at least. I believe he and James vould do vell for each other," she added as she stood there. Adam was not something they had discussed but he was something that needed to be addressed. If she was going to arrange for one child to stay, why not make it a pair that could be there for each other. They would be outsiders coming in and even Elizaveta wished she had had a non-circus playmate when she was younger.

A resolute sigh escaped Mary's lips. "Of course. If the Circus will take him in, the both of them may find camaraderie with one another. No one should be alone in this world." The young Apostolic's hand dropped to the chain rosary at her belt, her fingers counting each link, one after the other. "We are in agreement, though after this business is done to the north I should like to hear his opinion on the matter."

"Yes, of course. Vhen matters can be discussed freely vith him ve shall see vhat he desires," Elizaveta said as she looked towards Mary though after what she had seen in Adams eyes she wondered if that would even be a worry.

Mary cleared her throat and continued, "It is decided. When the meeting is concluded, we ride for Gretna Green. The boys will be cared for here. Now, the Graveolase: I have my own ideas, but I would dearly appreciate the advice of a London noblewoman of standing and a powerful Grand Duchess. I am very new to this."

With James' safety ensured, Virginia felt a great weight lifted from her shoulders. She was calm by nature, yet the threats against her brother's life had rattled her extensively. And while she was by no means indifferent to her dear friend's plight, she was better able to focus on the task at hand, as the Dame Commander and the Grand Duchess systematically tackled each issue in turn. Her thoughts then turned to the Graveolase. She had some skill in leadership and negotiations, but there was much about the individual members of the Graveolase that she simply did not know.

"My advice in this matter is limited," Virginia said. "Yet in terms of the Graveolase, it is possible that they will see you as simply a woman and nothing more. You may need to command their respect in order to be considered fairly...Not all in our society take kindly to women in positions of authority. But beyond this, I can only offer you another small piece of advice. To be brief, trust your instincts. They will act as a compass."

Virginia's words sounded of truth, to Mary's experience. It didn't matter that she had been trained by the elite soldiers of the Vatican, nor that she possessed abilities beyond ordinary men and women and the courage to use them against the plague upon mankind that was the Soulless - to many, Mary would always only be a mere woman. She nodded and listened respectfully as the Mistress of Wenwynith reminded her of the hurdles she had to leap for having been born female.

"You vould not like to hear my vords on the matter Mary. I have dealt vith them in the past, each time urging them to add my peoples skills to the council and give us a seat but they refuse. I try again tonight, perhaps attacks vill get them to listen though I doubt it. Tread carefully, only the Graveolase from Rome, Ireland and Japan are those vhich I would trust. Outside yourself of course Mary but then I do already trust you," Elizaveta said as she heard a bit of a commotion outside. She could hear Constantin bellow for Vlad. Vlad would take care of matters, she could stay focused here.

Mary noted the call for Vladimir's aid outside of the tent, and she had to override her intrinsic impulse to rise and see to this new difficulty. Before she was fully aware of what was going on, Mary had already moved a hand to her pistol and her muscles tensed to spring from the couch, her eyes blazing with righteous fire. But she was a guest here. Taking certain liberties for herself might very well lead to a diplomatic incident, not that she was much of a diplomat in the first place. Instead, she forced herself to relax (somewhat) and deferred to Veta's lead, allowing The Great Bazhooli to handle his own affairs without Scots-Catholic interference. "Rome, Ireland, Japan." she reported back, using the words to ground her thoughts in the immediate vicinity. "Why must there be politics involved in defending humanity? We all want the same thing. Rather, we should. I do wish this "honor" had not been thrust upon me." But she took it, if only to keep it away from those who would abuse the office.

Virginia's hand went to the sheathed axes attached to the sides of her dress as she heard someone cry for the Great Bazhooli. The exclamation of an intruder worried her, yet her eyes flickered towards Elizaveta and Mary. The Grand Duchess did not appear to be too concerned and while she caught a hint of flames in Mary's eyes, the Dame Commander remained as well. James would be fine, Virginia reassured herself - and if the situation did turn dire, she was armed. She refocused her attention on Elizaveta and Mary, pondering Mary's words. There were many occasions when the rest of humanity puzzled her. They had manners and customs that made little sense to a Crypt. "Greed, pride, fear, self-interest...The preservation of humanity is perhaps at odds with those. But Mary, the reaper waits for no one. Who else was qualified when the Arch Graveolase went to the next adventure?" Virginia said.

"And even if there vas one vould ve vant them to have this position? Many placed on a path by God did not vish it to be so and yet vho are ve to question his decisions? Trust in him and keep your faith Mary. He has placed you here for a reason and vould not do so if you could not do vhat is right," Elizaveta said as she looked over towards Mary and gave her a slightly of approving nods. There was another yelp outside and a language that Elizaveta did not know spoken very loudly, yet she did not move. Myska was not there to protect her nor had Sister Sophia come barging in so she chose not to worry about things right then.

The rapid fire reassurance from both Virginia and Elizaveta served to bolster her affection for her friends, though did not do quite as much for her confidence in the upcoming meeting. "I do not question the will of our Lord, of course," began Mary, "nor am I aware of anyone else qualified for such a position that I might trust to act with altruism. Particularly if they were to covet the position." Mary shook her head, ever so slightly, maintaining her serene countenance, "So your collective advice is to immediately command the respect of persons I have never met who will likely dismiss me immediately because I am a woman, do as I must to appoint the Russian delegation into the Graveolase despite previously unsuccessful attempts, and above all maintain faith in the Lord. The last part will come easily. I have hope that the former will follow thereafter. So, how shall we begin?" Oddly, Mary seemed in high spirits, presented with this new challenge. A small smile gave it away.

The shout in a strange tongue, strangely enough, was a relief to Virginia. The words did not sound like any spoken in the New World or by those who studied in Asia. Despite not speaking the trained tongue of the Talinks, she could at least recognize the difference in sounds between other languages. With the Talinks ruled out, as well as the mysterious figure who at least trained in the New World, Virginia was reassured that whatever chaos was happening outside of the tent did not concern her brother. As for how to begin - she turned her gaze to Elizaveta. Virginia was unfamiliar with the time table for tonight's events, yet she figured the Grand Duchess - given that she was hosting the event - would know almost every last detail. "If the Graveolase have already begun to arrive, perhaps now would be a moment to familiarize yourself with them - especially those that the Grand Duchess has already mentioned. Of course, I am unaware of the schedule crafted by the Circus for tonight's activities, beyond the prepared Mamushka." Her eyes had an almost icy warmth to them at the thought - she adored the Mamushka and found that the larger the group, the more spectacular it became.

"Voman not such a problem to council. There are currently three women on the council. Lady Kirkpatrick represents Ireland. Christine Del'ataunt the West Indies. Finally, Akechi Lee Ko heads up Japan. It is youth that may be largest obstacle. All on council are older than ve three, youth can mean inexperience to many." Glancing over at herself in the mirror, she knew she didn't look as if she had the experience needed to rule a country or to head up a church, or to lead a people on the council. Yet, there she was. All of twenty-three and embarking on all three for her nation. "As far as circus goes, as much as I vould like it to be that we are added to council, one must ensure ve are able bodied. That will be displayed tonight, I pray to your satisfaction."

Mary raised a eyebrow at that last statement. "I am already satisfied, Grand Duchess. If this is my decision to make, this event tonight is a formality. I do wish to experience more of the skills of your people, however. I find them fascinating." Mary also found it fascinating that there were a number of female Graveolase, but refrained from comment as it appeared that Veta had more to say on the matter of the meeting.

Virginia was a bit surprised as well at the female Graveolase - from what she understood, society feared women in power. While she had been raised in a family that saw no difference in capability between the sexes, that was not the case for the outside world. She felt a bit of happiness learning that not all of society had fallen down some dark and horrible path - there was still hope for them. Perhaps one day they would even play Wake the Dead without judgment.

Looking away from the mirror she looked towards Virginia and gave a soft smile. "The dance of the circus, the fight of blades, birth of our people. And tonight it will be as never seen before outside of Circus." Veta took a deep breath. It would have to be more spectacular than before, more dangerous, and she would be in the middle of it. A small prayer was said that her voice did not crack for it could mean a blade missed its mark.

"It sounds excellent, and I am certain your ancestors would leave their graves to view it if they were so able," Virginia said. She meant it as a compliment. She had only fond memories of the Mamushka and she was excited to see it performed tonight. Given that it was a skill, she assumed that there were differences between the Mamushkas she had danced in her childhood. This rendition would have novelty to it and she yearned to see it. Little James would have a chance to watch it as well and it warmed her heart. There was nothing that made her feel more alive than a dance with death - even if she could only be a spectator to it.

[FantasyChic]

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Colette de La Fontaine

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Location: The de La Fontaine Family Home, Manchester
Skills: None at this time

---

Finally.

Colette stepped out of the carriage carefully. She didn't want her first step into her own adventure to be her falling. It took a bit to get this far. Her father was not an easy man to persuade (which made him good at his job, she supposed). However, after much persistence on her part, she made it to Manchester.

Despite recent events, Colette felt this was the best place for her. Not only was she among her own set, but the country provided a wealth of the unknown. There was only one slight setback.

"Je déteste ces choses..."

The portly woman stepped out shortly after Colette. Ida had been in her family for years. Some of her fondest childhood memories were with Ida in them. Ida may be complaining now, but Colette was confident Ida's thoughts were first and foremost about her safety. Ida was no weak old maid, she had seen much of the world in her time and was a trusted member of her family. Often times, Colette and her brother would sneak out of her watchful gaze to explore. Ida often let it known that she knew they would sneak off, but she never told her parents. For that, Colette knew Ida could be trusted.

However, Colette also wanted to do this on her own. If she had to have someone watching over her, it was better to have Ida along than some of the other stodgy staff that was left back at home.

"Ida, please. We are in England. We should be speaking more English." Ida scoffed, "Anglais? Bah, le français est la seule langue que je souhaite parler." Colette shook her head, but a slight smile crossed her lips. Ida shuffled over as the driver started taking her bags out to bring inside. Colette looked over at the house. It wasn't as big as she pictured, but then again the last time she was here was as a little girl, so everything was bigger then. It would do.

She could see the movement inside as the staff was still preparing for her arrival. "Ida, you can go inside and get set up. I'd like to be out here a bit longer." Ida looked as if she was about to protest, but she stepped back as if acknowledging it would be a bad idea. She curtsied and picked up her own bags and made way for the inside.

Colette wanted a moment to gather her thoughts. She was in a somewhat unknown place and was left to her own devices (though she was sure her father had more people here than just Ida to keep an eye on her). Either way, she wanted to write a letter to Leon as quickly as possible.

---

Setting up at home wasn't as hard as she imagined. The staff made things go a lot quicker. Especially Ida, who went after anyone she came in contact with. She was truly a force to be reckoned with.

Colette hadn't been there for more than a day when the letter arrived. An invitation, of all things. Recent events led her to believe that not much would be done. And then she remembered she was dealing with members of the upper crust. What better way to get over the attack than to throw a party. To show that life moved on.

Either way, Colette was excited to attend. This was her first "adventure" after leaving home and she was going at it alone. She wore her best light blue dress with white design. She tied her hair up with a light blue ribbon. She took along the necessary precautions one needed for such an event, especially one after that attack.

The carriage ride was uneventful, save for the fact she was alone inside. Ida wanted to come along, but Colette managed to convince her to stay home. She wasn't too far away and Colette could handle herself should things get crazy. She was sure that if her father's spies weren't keeping watch, Ida had a few of her own.

The carriage stopped outside of a brilliant looking house. She was so used to the homes back in France, she barely had time to admire the English architecture style. The driver got off and opened the door for her and helped her step down. She nodded her approval and sent him on his way.

Colette walked towards the house. She wasn't sure if the eyes of the others were on her just yet, but one never showed weakness. She made her way across and to the door. She told whom she assumed was the help "Colette de La Fontaine." After, she stepped inside to greet the party head on.

Translations

"Je déteste ces choses..." = I hate these things....

"Anglais? Bah, le français est la seule langue que je souhaite parler." = English? Bah, French is the only language I wish to speak

[mnkee]

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Thalken Talink

I'll be a better man today. I'll be good, I'll be good
For all of the times that I never could

- "I'll Be Good" by Jaymes Young

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Location: Trafalgar Square --> Regent St. & Piccadilly
Skills: Planning & Deliberating

---

Thalken sat there for a while, staring blankly out the carriage window. His dark eyes did not seem to register any of the passing scenery but instead took on a distant look as he was deep in thought. The “what ifs” seemed endless, and all paths seemed destined to fail. They surely knew he was coming, and they would be prepared to protect the young Viscount Wenwynith to the bitter end. He was but one man, while they were many. Perhaps he did not need to confront the Lady Crypt head on. Perhaps he did not need to make his presence known, but instead he could remain in the shadows for a little longer, keeping an eye out for the viscount from afar. Yet the circus was large and filled to the brim with people, he couldn’t remain hidden there for forever. Sooner or later he would be spotted, and in the end, he would be more focused on stealth rather than protecting the viscount. Ultimately, the problem was that he was thinking like a Talink, like a trained killer, and not like the honorable he strived more than ever to be.

He let out a sigh, his gaze retreating from the carriage window. How could he prove his worth outside the Talink name? How could he prove he had long since had a change of heart? How could he prove he was a good man to others and more importantly to himself? Simple. Well actually not so simple. He had to act as no Talink had before. He had to think and act outside the box and outside his comfort zone. He had to stop holding back and instead open himself up to others. He had to let the goodness inside him shine through. He had to surrender, and let the hands of fate guide him.

In the end, Thalken was too preoccupied by all these thoughts to take note of the carriage driver’s poor directional skills. They had missed a turn, and that had to be corrected to get back on the right path. Soon enough they had made it to the corner of Regent St. and Piccadilly.

[Sigil]

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Vladimir Alexandrov

"The Great Bazhooli"

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
Skills: Fal'shbort, Tretiy Glaz

---

There are days when drama and event seems to stack upon itself. The day did not start well, and that was an understatement. Luckily, so far as anyone could tell, Elizaveta pulled through alright. Still, the ink-black tentacled creature of unknown origin gave him pause. He had no problem facing off against the thing, especially as it meant defending his beloved adoptive daughter Veta (who happened to be the future ruler of the Russian Empire), despite the fact that he had no idea what to do to give it a true death. Then the business with the Scary Catholic Girl. The lack of business from London, when it was supposed to be its busiest period. And the unexpected entry of the Graveolase. And the accidental decapitation. And, and, and.

Of course this was on top of the difficulties last night. As he understood, there was an all-out attack upon Almack's Assembly Rooms, occurring at the same time that he was performing at Astley's Theatre. Considering the type of crowd at both locations, it might have just as easily been at his location as Almack's. This was not good. At least now that the Graveolase was present, they had the opportunity to perform for someone. And not just a stock performance, oh no: It was the demonstration of the Grand Mamushka, a dance involving many skilled individuals working in concert, involving knives, fire, acrobatics, music, and singing the likes of which enhanced the moment step for step and blade for blade. If only he could get to his favored Bazhooli Sem'ya to confirm their state of readiness for the performance. But as with everything else today, some new wrinkle just HAD to appear.

In this instance, it appeared in the form of a chain of persons calling for him, calling out "Великий Бажули!"₁ and holding an arm in the air, giving Vladimir a path to follow through the gathering of circus folk. It was a path which he followed with great haste and determination, hands still full of sharp and pointy objects, his top of his tall hat bobbing above the heads of the gathered circus folk even as they parted to allow him access to his destination: Constantin, plus a curious looking man carrying a small burrowing mammal.

Vladimir stood a short length away from the pair of them, giving just enough room to loose a blade from his grasp with more than reasonable assurance of a successful insertion if the occasion called for it. So much as he wished to bellow in solid Russian, a language which he had a more fluent gift for vocabulary and style, he surmised that English would be the better medium for conversation, given their location and the fact that the extreme majority of Russian speakers in London were accounted for by the Circus's numbers. He addressed the man with much in the way of hand movement and flourishing of his knives, as suited his artistic custom.

"Strange and uninvited man vith veasel! You stand in presence of Great Bazhooli, Impalement Artist and Master of Bazhooli Sem'ya! You vill state name and business, on immediate! Or..." Vladimir ran the flat of one of his knives across the edge of his hat's brin, bowing his head slightly and taking on a mischievous grin, "Or prepare to be Bazhooli'ed."

Translations

1 = Great Bazhooli!

[rivaan]

---

Constantin Kolev

---

Location: The Tent City.
Skills: Tretiy Glaz,Fal'shbort

---

The man's words did nothing to disperse Constantin's suspicions of the man. The way he just appeared out of nowhere, his apparent inability or at least faking the inability to take the situation at normal serious behavior. Not to mention the ferret. Yes having a ferret was usually a good thing, but the way he used it as excuse to tell him to lower his blade made him narrow his eyes. There was also the fact he spoke out a German based language. Constantin never really got into studying Germanic languages so he couldn't decide on the precise type and then were the other things that he didn't even understand.” Ohh I'm going to hold more than the fluffball up...” He growled, eyes locked on the man, waiting to spot anything suspicious.

Then of all things that would happen the man leaped at him, wrapping arms and legs around him in something that Constantin can only recognize as a type of fear, before something big white furry passed around, with two people on it's back.” Get off me, you...” The fire walker struggled and growled as the man slipped down and eventually let go, pulling away. Constantin barely holding the urge to punch him in the face.

“Yes... I'm with the Circus. Name's Constantin.” Constantin replied, eyeing the man again, wondering precisely where on the scale of insanity this one was. Hopefully on the lower side cause there were people who would have the patience.' The tent city isn't exactly hard to find if you knew the general area where it was... like it's a little town of tents for crying out load!' He though, but decided not to say anything.

“Fine, yes come, I will lead you two where the Graveolase will be... but first you're coming with me to meet The Great Bazhooli... This is a little over my responsibility.” The firewalker stated, noting for the man to follow him.” Just keep any weapon out of your hands and we should be fine...” Then there was the booming voice of the Great Bazhooli appearing indeed.

“Great Bazhooli, he said his name's Ludwig was supposed to meet the Graveolase.” Constantin explained quickly, pulling himself slightly aside to not be between Vlad and the ferret carrying man.

[Lady Absinthia]

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Ludwig Zimmer

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Location: Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth
Skills: English, Observation, Mental Stamina, Unacknowledged Soulless/Countries

---

Veasel? What was a veaesal? Mouth agape the thoughts rushed through his mind, a musical melody dancing about like Oom Pa Pa and Polka. Bushes, and monkeys, fun, popping. Oh dash dash dash around like he was a Maypole and they were the monkeys. It was all in fun. Popping Des Veasel! Jumping that bush. Banana bush, monkeys just loved bananas. No wait, that was trees. Bushes, weasels... Popping... His mouth fell agape as he pondered just what monkeys and weasels were doing rushing around a bush. There was a light grumble in his tummy and his eyes blinked as he looked back at the one who had brought up the veasels in the first place. He was spouting off something but it wasn't registering with Ludwig with then. What did however was little sugarplums dancing through his mind. No, they weren't sugar plums, it was mulberries.

Mulberries, oh those sounded so good right then. Then another grumble came from his mid section. What was causing that rumble in his tummy. Oh the worms of silk could be causing it, they would want the mulberries. Then they would spin their silk and wrap the world around him, soft and warm, smooth and slick. Oh yes, brightly colored. The rainbow gleaming from above he could slide down as his arms went into the air and then the batting of butterflies wings. Butterfly, butter-fly. Another rumble. Oh yes, food. Mulberries... Turned into a sweet jam, smothered on some thick bread with a bit of butter. That Irish stuff. Not the French. Yuck the French. Fuck the Yench. Into the trenches down into the depth of the muck and mud, dotting around and staining our shirts. Staining with gay magenta polka dots. No, mud wasn't magenta.

Another grumble tore through his mind as his face squeezed up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Mulberries, yum. Weasels, not so much. Weasels.. Veasels... Looking over towards Vlad, "Oh I can see where you are confused. Dieter not weasel, he's a ferret. A Russian should know that." Reaching into his bag he looked over towards Constantin and grinned a bit, thin lips stretching oddly over his teeth. He was trying to smile but it was going horribly wrong. Were it centuries in the future one might think he was related to to one known as Sheldon Cooper. "The pen is mightier than the sword!" he exclaimed triumphantly as he drew a quill from his bag and held it aloft in the air as if he had just drew Excalibur from the stone. Oh mighty and majestic was he there, the wind blowing slightly around and ruffling the frayed ends of his coat.

"Granted, Lancelot was never the brightest. Merlin on the other hand, sorcerers and their apprentices were much more entertaining and wise." He was reaching into his bag as he spoke with his other hand, drawing a leather bound journal from within it and it flapping open in his palm as he looked back over towards Vlad. "Bazquenzeled? Bahooldumed?" he began. He was pondering just what the man had said, now that it was finally registering in his mind. "Bamboozeled?" He was rather confused, whatever it was it didn't sound pleasant. Sounded like something a Granny Nicher Pog might cook up and force feed her children instead of giving them sweets and candy. Truly a horrible thing.

"Bazmoozeled?" he tried again as he drew the feather of his quill beneath his nose. The tickle causing a sneeze to rip suddenly from his nostrils. His head turning and the splattering of phlegm flying from his mouth and nose like particles of wet dust in the nights air all over Constantins face. "BBBAAAAAZZZZHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLIIIII!!!!" he exclaimed into the sneeze. His eyes widened to the shape of saucers as he slowly turned around and looked back towards Vlad, not even noticing the large green polka dots of snot he had just left all over Constantin.

"Excuse me, I believe I just Bazhooli'ed myself. Do you happen to have a tissue?" he asked as he pressed his quill into the spine of his journal and closed the pages together.

---

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Millicent Wyndham

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Location: Formal Gardens, Heaton Hall, Heaton Park, Manchester, England
Skills: N/A

---

The party was complete Crush, which of course was just as their host the Second Earl of Wilton, Lord Thomas Egerton wanted. It didn't matter that people should have been fearing for their lives considering the attacks that had happened in London, a party was a party and the attacks only gave them more to gossip about. Who could have been the cause of it, who had died. There was much talk of a certain woman who should have known her death was coming. Waltzing around in London in breeches instead of the proper dress for an outing in the park earlier that day. Well, as horrible as it was, at least it was one less blight on the Ton Scene. They spewed their usual nonsense about how it was better to leave town anyways. The smell, the poor. Yes, the Soulless was just the ticket to get them back to their country estates and enjoying the summer instead of there. The parties would be stunning this year because of all the chaos.

It seemed the Lord Rutherford and Lord Egerton were enjoying themselves as well. They were speaking in the Formal Garden, off to the far side as Millicent remained as a statue on the bench she had been left at. "I know nothing of it, I had planned on leaving last evening so this did not change my plans. Millicent and I are eager to begin our new lives together," Rutherford said as he glanced over to her to make sure she was still seated and within eye distance.

"I see, so off to the Green is it? Would explain why she isn't being escorted by her mother or sisters," Thomas said as he kept his eyes on Rutherford and the man locked eyes with him.

"Oh poor things. Jayne was one of the ones killed in the attack, Mrs Wyndham was hurt and is in the hospital. Another reason we are in such a hurry. Mrs. Wyndham wants to ensure her daughter is properly wed in case she should pass. Poor thing, such a wonderful woman wanting to make sure her step daughter is taken care of even though so she in so much pain," Rutherford said and Thomas' brow arched slightly.

"That is very wonderful of her, most women would not take so much time to make sure a step child is tended to, especially a bluestocking such as Millicent."

Millicent had tuned out their voices. They were luckily far enough away from her that it was an easy matter. Instead focusing on the sound of the music that was wafting in from the main saloon of the house. Between that, the voices muddling together while the ton gossiped, the clanging of glasses as they were set empty on trays after their champagne had been drained, it was more than a simple task to get lose and not let the voice of Rutherford cut into her mind for the first time that day. The scent of the flowers in the garden helped to drown out the stench she was sure he left on her skin and the shadows helped to keep her from catching a glimpse of his eyes while she sat there.

"Zhǔ a, rúguǒ nǐ xiǎng chéngwéi wǒ de fùqīn, xiànzài qǐng ràng wǒ zhīdào, wǒ bù zhīdào wǒ néng dài duōshǎo." Her voice was tired and worn as she spoke to herself, pulling at her fingers slightly as she bit her bottom lip.

[Morose]

---

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Elizaveta Romanova, Sister Mary Ignatia Hale, and Virginia Crypt

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---

Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
Skills: Tretiy Glaz (Elizaveta/Passive), English (Elizaveta), Diplomacy (Elizaveta), Crypt Family History (Virginia)

---

Elizaveta nodded slightly. The Grand Duchess was not exactly sure how to take the words but everything that Virginia said and did seemed to be done without cruelty or disdain, so she took it as a compliment instead of anything else. Thinking for a moment she turned back to Mary. "One vould think the Council vould have added us centuries ago. Unlike the other skills ve can teach our vays to vork vith your ovn. You for one could learn the Ostanavalivat'sya, you vitnessed it in the alcove of the church," she said to Mary before turning and looking back towards Virginia, a get smile with a hint of heritage crept into her eyes. "You and your brother could learn the bond between Mamushka and Tatushka, vorking together in harmony to be even more deadly." Taking a step around the room Elizaveta ran her fingers along the length of some of the silk that hung from the ceiling. "They reject that vhich could make them stronger for fear of losing their pover."

Mary nodded on ageeement with the Grand Duchess's assessment. She had seen some of the skills that the Rusyn people had to offer, and like the people of the Circus they were flashy, impressive, and quite effective. Though populated by Gypsies and musicians, and probably other assorted ne'er-do-wells she was told never to associate with, she foind there people to be dedicated to one another and generous with what they had. And skilled - both in Trained and mundane abilities with a high degree of proficiency. One word caught Mary's attention over the rest, though, "Ostanavlivat'sya..." she tried to fit the word out carefully, "That was the collection and cleansing of impure souls, correct? I would very much like to learn that discipline. And others. If the Graveolase could only witness what your people can do, they may understand their error."

The thought of learning more about her family's cultural dance was enticing to her. While they traditionally sang during its performance, Virginia had never heard of Tatushka. Whenever the song itself was referenced, it too was referred to as the Mamushka. In a less dire and urgent time, Virginia would have been enthralled by the possibility of learning that bond. The Cossack Crypts were the ones that originally introduced the dance - what better way to honor them? Of course, she was filled with curiosity as to how they had come to learn it. Were they friends of the Circus? Or perhaps with the Royal Family?

"I do hope so Mary, for they haven't in the past. Perhaps in light of recent events they vill be more open minded. At least I knov you vill be and in the end your vote if the only one my people need," Elizaveta said before looking back over towards Virginia. A strange lofty smile coming to her lips a she did.

"In my experience, nothing is more persuasive than a Mamushka," Virginia said with a smile. If the Grand Mamushka that the Great Bazhooli described could not give the Graveolase a change of opinion, little else would - especially after the events at Almack's.

"The dance of my people, from a single source. One vhich all the vonders of our skills stems. Ve are unlike the others in many vays, one being ve knov our origin. Ve knov vhere ve began. ₁Yкрытие мертвых паслен." Elizaveta never let her eyes leave Virginias as she spoke. "You knov these vords even though you are not avare. In your tongue it has tvo meanings. Directly it means shelter of the deadly nightshade. Yet words sometimes hold a more true meaning..." she added as she let her words fall into the air and knelt down before Virginia, resting her hand over the pale womans. "These vords have meaning to you do they not?"

While Mary was thoroughly interested in the direction the conversation was going, she felt a little like she was intruding. She had heard mention of this "Mamushka" before, but had never seen it personally. Now Mary had finally put two and two together; there might be a connection between the Crypts and the Circus. It was odd to her, though. The people of the Circus seemed to embrace every facet of raw, vital life with emotion and drama, if the strange man in charge set the example, while the Crypts (what few of them she knew) had unnatural affection for the macabre. Perhaps the competing philosophies were supposed to fit together like puzzle pieces, or come together like a key and a lock. Or maybe they were incomplete parts of a greater wisdom. Or just maybe, she was totally misreading the situation. So for the meantime, she sat quietly, politely listening without offering comment.

Virginia had become rather still, focusing on the Grand Duchess' each and every word. Just as Elizaveta maintained eye contact with Virginia, so did the eldest daughter of the British Crypts stare fixedly back at Elizaveta. She anticipated that Elizaveta would hold some information about her family and how they had learned the Mamushka - how wrong she was. It was more than simply that. Atropa belladonna, the deadly nightshade - she had last seen it traced on the note her father sent through the flames, along with a message of immense importance. Seek Life Elsewhere. The Carpathian Mountains were where the raven haired Crypt had appeared, according to the stories.

"Of course - the atropa belladonna," Virginia replied, a tear sliding down her face as she understood. "The protection of the deadly nightshade - my ancestor who sold her soul to the dark forces...who sought life elsewhere." Virginia said. It was partially for Mary's benefit. Although her friend had done some investigation into her family, she doubted that Mary was aware of this tale. "Some Crypts claim to have seen her throughout the centuries, as she still draws breath, the Crypt with ebony hair...I take it that she is your source, Grand Duchess...the source of your ways, of the ways of the Circus." She had more family than she had previously known. The people of the Circus may not have the surname Crypt, yet the spiritual kinship was present. With this revelation, she felt more secure than ever with James' safety and future. He would have the Crypt childhood that she wanted him to have - the childhood that he deserved.

"Ve are cousin, there is much to explain and for you to learn of your family. Of ₁Yкрытие мертвых паслен." Elizavetas voice was calm and kind as she spoke. Rising she pulled a small silk handkerchief from the folds of her gown and held it out to Virginia. "Now, let us go speak with Baron Alexandrov and arrange for James to remain vith the Circus to train with his people. And for Adam to stay so he can remain safe for now," Elizaveta said as she glanced over towards Mary.

A sense of realization came over Mary. She had spent a fair amount of time in the company of The Baron Alexandrov earlier in the day. He had been an interesting and straightforward source of conversation, inquiring into Mary's background and giving knowledge of his own, to the point of offering the benefit of his advice and experience. The young Apostolic was not a tried leader, but was polite and attentive to the words that the elder Baron had to say to her, now that the was the Arch Graveolase on the interim. Being that he had insinuated himself into her circle of counsel (likely for his own ends, at least in part), he would be a fine counterpoint to nay-sayers claiming that she was lacking in experience. If he could be convinced to lend his support and counsel publicly. "...yes," she said absently lost in thought.

Mary's attention focused on Elizaveta and her voice picked back up with strength and confidence, "Of course, Grand Duchess. Speaking with the Baron is an excellent idea, if he would see us. I have a related matter I wish to discuss with him." She stood with a feeling of renewed vigor and threw on her robe. Mary smoothed it out but kept the front of it open, displaying her knightly and Catholic attire, but pulled her hood up over her head and took up her Swiss halberd as a woman on a mission. "Grand Duchess, Lady Crypt, I thank you unreservedly for your friendship and advice. It is my wish that we may always be as we are now, regardless of what the future holds for us individually, and if I may ever be further service to either of you you have but to ask. At this moment, we each have grand tasks which require our unwavering attention. I suggest we get started, and together."

Virginia accepted the handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, yet she was smiling all the same. She adored her family and would do just about anything for them, no matter how distantly related. The same blood was in all of their veins. They danced the same Mamushkas. They played the same rousing games of Wake the Dead. They were different from the normals in this world and they were different from the soulless. They were Crypts - and now, Virginia had found more cousins. Any qualms she may have had about the ability of the Circus to protect James had vanished. She had no reason to doubt any member of the Crypt family, no matter how distant.

She had no doubt that Elizaveta and the others present would have more information about the ebony haired Crypt. She was certain that it was her father's intention to seek her out, in order to protect her family from those who would seek to subdue them. It was the Crypt way - destroy those gladly who attempted to destroy them. They danced with Lady Death. "Yes, time is of the essence this evening. For Millicent and for the Graveolase...For us all," Virginia said, acknowledging Mary with a nod. She rose to her feet, uncertain as to where exactly the baron would be. It'd be best to defer to Elizaveta and Mary.

Translation

1 - Shelter Of The Deadly Nightshade (Direct Translation, not full meaning)

[Sigil]

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Vladimir Alexandrov

"The Great Bazhooli"

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
Skills: Fal'shbort (Passive), Tretiy Glaz (Passive), Chteniye Dushi (Active, Soul Reading)

---

The Great Bazhooli added a nod of appreciation to Constantin for providing the given name of the man in front of him and stating the overt explanation for his presence. "спасибо₁ Constantin." However, upon some inspection of the man heightened his doubts of the claim that he was an emissary in search of the Graveolase. Of course, they were present in his camp, but for a man to show up unannounced and uninvited and insist that he should be granted access? No. It seemed off. The fact that he had butchered the title that he had earned through trial and rite of passage, intentionally so, left Vladimir in a state of growing, bubbling annoyance. Much more of it and he may find himself shy one or two knives from his person, only to have to ask this Ludwig's corpse for permission to retrieve them from his torso. Such things would be frightfully difficult to explain to the local constabulary. If he were found.

Something felt off, however. The man was obviously mad, but the word that wafted to his ears was that he was exhibiting abilities unknown to the Circus, possibly by means of Training. But, most certainly a nutbar. Vladimir twirled his knives between his fingers, eyeing the man carefully. If only he had a means of determining more about the man without having to resort to painful, lingering torture that may or may not stain his fine if flashy wardrobe. But wait! As it turned out, he indeed did have such a talent! Vlad opened himself to the Chteniye Dushi, a technique passed down by his Rusyn forebearers that allowed one to peer into the soul of another and see what lay within.

The murky depths of the young man's eyes did not reveal much to him. His personal madness likely was not the culprit; Vladimir had read the exquisitely insane and come back with some information. Perhaps he was too far away or could not get a good enough mental connection. Either way, what little he could discern from Ludwig was that he wasn't immediately getting a feeling of alarm from the man. It wasn't much, but it was a start. "Nyet. Not having tissue. You are having seconds to explain - vhy do you stand in our home, insulting name of our Fathers as if not expecting answer of cold, Russian steel? And if here for Graveolase, vhere is invitation? Come, hand over. The patience of The Great Bazhooli is finite and fickle as vinds."

Translations

1 = Thank you (pronounced "Spasibo")

[rivaan]

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Constantin Kolev

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Location: The Tent City.
Skills: Tretiy Glaz,Fal'shbort

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'I've got a real... oh noooooooooo...' Constantin just had not the chance to react to this. By the time he realized where it was going, it was all over. Deja vu. This seemed really familiar for some reason... as if he had gotten covered in snot and so on earlier... by a big tiger.” Мамицата му... ще го убия... с голи ръце ще...“ Constantin mumbled in his native language of bulgarian, his expression about as struggling to hide his really growing desire to reach over and strangle the weird crazy man with his bare hands, as said hands were managing to hide their trembling. In other words not very, because his fists were shaking by his side, before he reached and wiped his face with his sleeve.

“I need to … valk to my tent... yes... be right back.” Constantin mumbled with eerie expression on his face as he just turned to the side and walked away, barely withholding the urge to strangle Ludwig. This event Constantin would not forget so easily... ohh no. He will bid his time, but vengeance will be his. He will find a way to repay the favor if not now, one day dammit.

On his way over to his tent to change clothes again, he ran his hand across the top of a torch, barely grazing the flames, but just enough to feel the heat.” Ve should never have came to this country. Everything's going vrong since ve did...”

Translation

” Мамицата му... ще го убия... с голи ръце ще...“= "Damn him... I will kill him... with my bare arms..."

[FantasyChic]

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Colette de La Fontaine

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Location: The de La Fontaine Family Home, Manchester
Skills: None at this time

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The best thing about large gatherings like this was the amount of ease one has when listening for gossip. It's all too easy to slip next to a group and pick up random tidbits of information. Considering Colette was new to these parts, it would serve her well to see if there was any knowledge to be gained from these people.

Colette breezed her way in. She was sure she stood out, but that was also part of the point. She wanted gossip, but she was also curious to see if anyone would gossip about her. As she walked around the rooms, she heard bits and pieces.

"...poor thing, lost her girl in the attack..."
"..and I hear she doesn't love him ba..."
"..wonder who she is..."

Colette smiled warmly. This was what she loved about her set. Even in the face of adversity and chaos, there was still enjoyment to be had. Life had to move onward. That was something her father would say, were he not so stodgy.

Colette made her way outside for some fresh air. She was somewhat thankful no one had pulled her aside to ask who she was and why she was there. It means she was blending in somewhat well, though she was sure she caught some glances from people. Colette sipped some champagne she had grabbed as she eyes the crowd. The crush wasn't bad for an English affair.

[mnkee]

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Thalken Talink

I will confess that I have sinned with my hands
And there's no one else to blame

- "Honest to God" by AWAY ft. Charity

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Location: Regent St. & Piccadilly --> Devonshire Terrace
Skills: N/A

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So it was settled then. Thalken had to walk into the tent city and surrender himself. What else was he to do? It seemed to be the only logical conclusion. To attempt anything else would only serve to further incriminate himself. If he truly wished to prove that he was to be trusted, that he was on the side of good, he should have nothing to hide. Well. That was so much easier said than done for a man who had always lived in the shadows.

Thalken let out a breathy sigh as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seatback. He could feel every bump in the road reverberating up through the seat. The silence weighed heavily on him but not more than the weight of what he had to do. He had to defy his very nature. He had to break down his walls and open up. He had to. He had to if he ever wished to thrive rather than just survive.

Every second of travel felt like an eternity. His stomach was in knots as he was eating himself up inside with anxiety. He turned his head to the side and opened his eyes once more to look out the carriage window. They were coming upon Devonshire Terrace at this point. He was almost there. Almost. Was he ready for this? Like hell. But did he really have choice in the matter? His mind told him he did, that he could just runaway from it all. From his wretched life. But his heart would not soon forget all the transgressions he must pay penance for. And he would, all in due time. All in due time.

[Lady Absinthia]

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Ludwig Zimmer

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Location: Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth
Skills: English, Observation, Mental Stamina, Unacknowledged Soulless/Countries

---

The Russian seemed to be looking at him, very closely. Studying him. Oh yes, he was studying him. Well as one studious man to another he had to allow the study. I mean when was the last time he allowed anyone to study him? When was the last time someone wanted to study him? Probably never, well outside of Ulrich but that was a different story entirely. Ludwig was determined to comply and let the man look into the depths of his soul. He knew of this technique. It was most fascinating. At least he hoped it was a skill and the man didn't just enjoy the company of younger men. While he would have been flatter but even if he had swung in that particular direction Vlad was obviously too manly for his tastes. Did he have a taste? He hadn't really thought about it but now that he was he didn't think he had a taste. Oh butterscotch would be so tasty right then. But this was England, so he would probably be stuck with crumpets and tea.

There could be no crumpets and tea though, they had work to do. Or so he assumed a Circus had work to he. He, himself, had work to do. He was supposed to be seeing the Graveolase. Yet, something was more pressing right then. He was being studied and he must comply. So he did. His eye widened as far as they could, lids locking tight against his skull, brows raising dramatically and high. He lips remained closed but one could tell his jaw was ever elongating to try to give the most taunt of psychotic expressions as his nostrils flared. He wasn't trying to look crazy, he was just trying to have his eyes open wide enough to be studied. Yet standing here he found he could just catch the blurred tip of his nose as his glasses slipped down his face and his eyes crossed as they walked slowly down to the little button at the end of his nasal vessel. He still still though, he as being studied.

It was just as Vlad finally spoke that he let out the breath he was holding and quickly pushed his glasses back up his nose and scrunched his face up as tightly as he as stretched it. "Oh thank heavens. A moment longer and I would have had a new pair to be needed to be constructed. I am not sure of the glassmen in this area, I wouldn't want anyone that hadn't had their minds cleared Cobblewinchester Muffins examining my eyes that closely again. Splattered brains is a right pain to get out of parchment..." he said as he flipped open his journal and pointed to a spot on one of the pages. The page listed out various skill names and the area from which they had come. It was a listing of the Irish skills.

"That was the Chteniye Dushi?" he asked as he began to chew on side of his quill. "I hope I held still long enough, did I pass? I hope I did. You aren't... what was it? Bazhooling me? Is that a new technique? I haven't heard of that one but I'd like to see it. Oh yes! I would but can you show me later? I'm in a hurry," he said as he held the quill between his teeth and spoke. It made the speech a little wetter than normal but he was managing his English right properly in his mind. Flipping a couple of pages in his journal he found an envelope and shoved it towards Vlad. "See, here, the Graveolase finally responded. They promised to see me when they met with the Russians. I'm the first in a century they've agreed to see so I can't be late for this very important date."

Ludwig handed over the opened envelope proudly. It was recognizable with the foiled lining and the crest of the council on it. Within was a letter from the now deceased Arch Graveolase. Buckingham wrote that he was looking forward to meeting the head of the German skills finally and he would speak to him when he met with another of the New Aged that were presenting, Russia. "They are here right? At least that is what they told me. I can meet them right?" Ludwig asked as his bottom lip rolled in and he bit it nervously, half crossing his leg and acting as if he had been holding going to the bathroom far too long. This man was of a skill set no one had heard of? And he was their representative? And he had notes on others? Even knew of the Russians?

What madness was this? This wasn't Sparta Or was it? One might think so as from the tent a goat burst through, wearing a red cape and a bronze galea with a face mask and a crest. He came baaaaing out of the tent and tore down the center of the Circus towards the entrance/exit. "₁Мистер Клопс вернётся сюда!" a man yelled as he rushed after him. The animal was not listening as his cloak billowed valiantly behind him.

"GOSTINLIBER!!!!!!!!" Ludwig exclaimed with such excitement as he jumped out of the way and half ducked behind Vlad. "I didn't know they roamed this far west..." he quipped as his fingers curled against the mans arm and the goat bore out of Regents Park like white lightning. Where he was headed was anyones guess and the man that had been chasing him stopped near the exit, throwing his hands up. This wasn't the first time that animal had run off, he would return, when he wanted vodka.

My Hider

1 - Mr. Clops get back here!

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Millicent Wyndham

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Location: Formal Gardens, Heaton Hall, Heaton Park, Manchester, England
Skills: N/A

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Looking down at the riticule in her hand, she pulled at a loose string. Millicent was trying to push out of her mind everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. It was too much for the strongest mind to look back on and right then she felt her sanity slipping away. Or perhaps it was locking itself away for its own safety. For her own. Hiding her face, feeling as if she had fallen from grace. Her entire life she was afraid try to do more than she had. Always trying to remain in good standing for the sake of her name, for her father reputation. Yes, she as a blue stocking. Had been out spoken, educated, vocal. Yet even to some that could be over looked. Defiled on the other hand was something that even the purest of women could hardly ever recover from. Even if it was proven what did it matter? The damage was done. Tainted good would never be sought after.

Her greatest fear was coming true. To wed without affection. Yet, it was all that was left for her. Wasn't it? Whom could hold affection for a woman such as her now? Even if she were to marry and be widowed. (If only such a thing were possible.) No one would dare come near her again if the slightest hint came through that she was anything but pure before the exchanging of the rings. Yet some women had managed to get around it but then it was consensual and they married. What a conundrum. To marry and act as if she wanted it, wanted him, and pray for his death. Or to never wed, and forever be alone? At this point, which was truly the worse of her options? She could not fathom. It was best to put it out of her mind.

Finding her tongue dry she looked around and wished for something to drink. Champagne, something to numb the pain inside and out, would have been welcome. It was about then that Rutherford and their host returned to her side. There were a few words exchanged between the two before Rutherford sat down and whispered against Millicents ear. It made her skin crawl but she nodded nonetheless. The two walked away from her and back towards the main area of the house.

Millicent let out a breath and looked around the formal garden. It was an interesting place to be. Not many homes had such large indoor green houses such as this one but it was beautiful. It was warm in there though, much warmer than outside where others might be. It was probably why there were so few in the Formal Garden. Summer was hot and damp enough as it was in England. English and summers and all. In the Formal Garden it was even more so. Sighing she rose from her place. She needed to freshen up, for if she remained in there much longer the makeup that was covering her bruises would melt away. Her hair she did not even bother to worry about. It was unruly at the best of times. Humidity made it impossible.

Grasping her clutch she moved from the Formal Garden and into the main hallway that connected it, seeking out a powder room and hoping that there were not too many from the ton within it gossiping. She did not wish to see faces she knew and have to explain why she was there, with whom she was there with, why she didn't have an escort, and so forth. It was near the Salon that she finally found the door she was seeking and she stepped inside.

Large chairs were covered in thick padding and fabric for women to relax on. It seemed more of a vanity room than anything else and in a sense it was. Yet it was empty, with glasses of champagne laid out, trays of sweets, perfumes, make ups, and more. The only one there was a single maid who stood off to the side, there to aid women with their clothing or other such necessities should they need it. Grasping a flute she downed the champagne quickly and then another before taking a third and sitting down for a moment to catch her thoughts and to enjoy the simple swirling tingles rushing through her. Millicent was never one to drink so it didn't take much for it to go to her head slightly. It was a welcome change to everything else coursing through her right then.

[Lady Absinthia]

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Elizaveta Romanova, Sister Mary Ignatia Hale, and Virginia Crypt

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
Skills: Tretiy Glaz (Elizaveta/Passive), English (Elizaveta), Diplomacy (Elizaveta), Crypt Family History (Virginia)

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The Grand Duchess was more than happy that both Virginia and Mary were on the same page and ready to move forward in what was turning into a mission of women. Not that Elizaveta had anything against men personally. She had dealt with the Circus most of her life and things within the Circus were very different than the rest of the world. Yet, the prospect of getting out on her own away from everyone that was constantly around her, to do something on her own, with friends who were not of the Circus... There was something very exciting about it and in her heart she was sure God was setting them on this path. Directing them so their paths would cross, that they would find each other, that they would have a goal in mind. Yes, this would be the path less traveled but it would be one she would enjoy. She had faith in her new friends.

"Then let us..." she began but her voice trailed off. Elizavetas eyes glazed over, as if a frost had formed over them. She froze in place as her lips parted. This looked like what had happened to her before at Almacks but much more intense. Before it had been a slower over taking, a dazed dreamy look in her eyes. This was hard, fast, and as she finally took a breath as she blinked, sharp. "Something vicked this vay comes, ve must hurry," she said as she pressed her hand to her chest and calmed her breath. "I vill explain as ve make our vay to the Baron," she added as she stepped over to the edge of the tent and pushed back the flap so they could start on their way.

A Grand Duchess just held a portal open for Mary. Etiquette in this matter was fuzzy. When looked upon from the matter of rank within the British Empire, Mary had no recognized title except for her role as clergy, which carried less weight as the Anglican church held sway. Lady Crypt held higher social standing, obviously, and Elizaveta? The next ruler of an empire stood further above Virginia than Virginia stood above her. Yet here she was, holding a tent flap open for them to cross through first. If Veta were upholding the general rules of social standing, Mary reasoned that she might be deferring to her present rank as Arch Graveolase... but that was silly. The Elizaveta that Mary met at St. Etheldreda's Church made it a point to tell her that the formalities of rank annoyed her at best. Mary's own strict adherence to formality was something she would have to suppress; Mary even promised that she would at least try to suppress while in her company. Besides, when someone like Veta offers a favor, one does not insult by declining.

Mary hefted her halberd and directed a respectful curtsy to Elizaveta, adding, "Thank you, Your Grace." Matters of etiquette followed and/or ignored as necessary, she stood to her full height and carried herself as knightly training dictated and strode from the tent, into the literal and metaphorical Circus outside.

With James' safety secured, Virginia was able to enjoy the shiver of fear and anticipation that went down her spine. The members of the Circus were her family and she had no doubt that Crypts, no matter their surname or accent, would be able to thrive in any crisis. Her father, as far as she was concerned, survived a ship wreck and instructed her to seek out their most ancient ancestor. She was certain that her mother had survived as well - the asylum had not broken Lady Dywell's spirits, so she found it strange to imagine that the roar of the sea could.

And while Mary was concerned with etiquette, Virginia had defaulted to the customs held at family gatherings. It did not matter that the British Crypts held an earldom. They were the same as any other Crypt, regardless of titles. Use of British etiquette and customs did not equate respect in Virginia's mind. Respect was more utile and far harder to attain. She nodded her thanks to Veta and passed through the tent, allowing Mary and Elizaveta to pass by her since she herself did not know the way to the Baron.

Elizaveta waited for the women to exit her private tent before she let the flap go and it fall back into place. Her curiosity was divided right then because of the noises she had heard coming from outside her tent but once again, she would have to wait. It did not seem like an emergency right then and they had more pressing matters. Much had to be done before the show and time was drawing near. Walking quickly but smoothly the Grand Duchess made her way through the chaos that was the circus, people making sure to duck out of the way of the three women as they walked.

"Summon the Baron to his tent, it is a most urgent matter," Elizaveta said to a passing member of the troupe. She doubted he was in his tent at that time due to the fact that the Graveolase had arrived. Glancing over towards Mary and Virginia as they continued towards the Barons tent she smiled slightly. "The Baron is far less... dramatic than his son Vlad," she informed the women as they reached the tent.

"I agree." concurred Mary, matching pace with Elizaveta. There was concern on her face stemming from the foreboding words the Grand Duchess has said earlier, but she held her tongue on the issue for the moment. "I can easily see why people consider The Baron intimidating. He is pragmatic and commands the respect of those around him. I spent a good portion of the day in his company; he has shown me nothing but courtesy in that time." Mary considered her observations of her time with Vladimir and his father for a few seconds, "There is a lot of The Baron in his son, but to a degree - I can readily see him hurling knives into his enemies, though I cannot imagine the man as The Great Bazhooli."

Virginia could not help but feel slightly disappointed. She quite enjoyed the Great Bazhooli's dramatic manners. He reminded her of the more passionate and enthusiastic members of her family - though now, she realized it was not too strange that she saw that within him. Well, Mary's testimony that the Baron was handy with a knife did somewhat redeem him, just not entirely. There was danger in the air and while Virginia had been left a bit of an emotional mess over the protection of her brother, she now felt that James was as safe as he could ever be. She could now allow the macabre to bring an intoxicated excitement to her blood, as she kept pace with Mary and Elizaveta. "Although I am quite fond of those with a flair for the dramatic, I must imagine that the Baron of the Russian Circus will be interesting in his own right," Virginia mused. "And a welcome ally in whatever danger you have foreseen, Grand Duchess."

Pushing back the tent flap of the Barons, Elizaveta stepped to the side so that the women could enter while they waited for the Baron to return. "I assure you, the Baron is a character in his ovn right, just as every member of the Circus is. Never a dull moment to be found," the Grand Duchess assured Virginia as she waited for her and Mary to enter before following in their footsteps and making her way into the tent. Glancing around she clasped her hands before her and took a position of standing in front of his desk facing the tent opening.

It was a matter of seconds after the women arrived at the Baron's tent that a venerable and powerful voice boomed from the general direction of the Grand Pavilion. Reactions from the crowd milling about or moving to specific tasks were immediate, even moreso than occasions that Vladimir had called for action. They parted like mown wheat, providing a clear path for the man to march directly up to his tent and greet the trio of women gathered therein. The Baron himself was richly dressed in ebon black trousers, riding boots, and cavalier vest with charcoal cravat tied in Imperial fashion; intricate and tight. A crimson tailcoat, heavy with black and gold brocade fit smartly over the ensemble, which was accessorized with a pair of Russian sabers and black top hat of very fine quality, but looked to be of local construction. An older man in his sixties, he was nonetheless spry and solid for his age, handsome of face, and with a full head of hair the color of polished silver.

He entered his tent, at first a vision of blustering authority. That image of him melted into something slightly more cheerful as he took in the identities of his visitors. He swept off his hat and lightly tossed it onto a pillowed seat nearby, bowed with a flourish that, while not as grandiose as his son's, certainly influenced it heavily. "Grand Duchess," he began, speaking English with a greater degree of comfort than others on his Circus, "Dame Commander," he continued, eyes piercing and inquisitive, "And Lady Crypt. It is ...particular honor... to receive you in my humble and temporary home." The words themselves could have been addressed to all of them simultaneously, but his eyes remained locked on Virginia. With impassioned speech, he addressed the newest visitor to his tent. "New meetings! Yes, new meetings require libation, da?" The Baron glided effortlessly to a chest near his desk, throwing it open and digging within. "Ve have many vines, good vines vith notes of flower and plum... but you, Lady Crypt... he raised a bottle labelled with the language of his homeland and a wooden rack of short glasses, pouring as he spoke, "For you, I think, Carpathian Vodka. Ve have much to talk about. But for introduction!" He handed the first glass to Virginia and raised his own, I am The Baron Dmitri Alexandrov, of line of Vasilyevich, Master of Russian Grand Circus. Velcome to my home."

"Now! he shouted, eager to get to business, "Vhat is thing of great importance?"

Virginia did not miss the express attention she received from the Baron as he entered the tent, with a subdued flourish - yet a flourish none the less. It did not surprise her in the slightest that he already recognized her, despite this being Virginia's first meeting with him. Her naturally pale complexion caused her to stand out amongst the peerage. It caught the attention of the Catholic Church, bringing on the inquisition of Dame Mary Hale, in order to ascertain if Virgnia was a member of the undead. In fact, it was a more rare occasion for her to not be instantly identified just by her appearance.

She accepted the glass of vodka from the Baron, noting that the Crypt family's connections to the Russian Circus appeared to only be a mystery to the Crypts. "Thank you, Baron Alexandrov," Virginia replied. She didn't see the need to introduce herself - everyone in the tent was aware of who she was. She'd much rather learn more of what misfortune Elizaveta had seen. Poison us, strangle us, break our bones - and we will come back for more. It was the Crypt family way. They drew strength from the macabre and the morose, from the mercurial and the dismal.

Morose, Sigil, Lady Amalthea

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Vladimir Alexandrov

"The Great Bazhooli"

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus - Tent City
Skills: N/A

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The whole encounter with the befuddled German fellow was a series of tiny surprises. Upon peering into his soul, Vlad could tell only that the usual warning signs present in those who would do harm were not to be glimpsed in the very odd man. The use of the skill, Chteniye Dushi, was not absolutely reliable, even for one as experienced as himself in the ability. It showed what it wanted to show; one opened themselves up to it and trusted that it would reveal what was needed. What surprised him was that this gaunt, scattered man knew the name of the skill, and could describe the nature of it. He didn't remember his people ever getting down to the old lands of Prussia, nor the dark mystery of the Black Forest. If he spoke the language or had a knowledgeable guide, he might want to visit. The point being: how the man knew of the Rusyn Skills, he could not say. This day was supposed to be the first grand display of those skills outside of the Russian Empire. Vladimir had questions.

Another surprise was that his invitation was legitimate. Ludwig had passed over a letter, presumably from the Graveolase. Vladimir reversed the grip on one of his blades in the manner of a showman and tucked it away, freeing his hand to better accept the document. He had seen Sister Mary's invitation earlier in the day, and this contained the same lining, writing, and was signed by the now deceased Arch Graveolase. If this was a forgery, it was excellent.

So he was invited. Just not by the Circus. Come to think of it, nobody who was of importance this evening was actually invited to be there. Moreover, the people of London and surrounding area, paying visitors, had declined to show up at all. Most performers would consider this a dismal failure. They would lose money this night, but just maybe, they would be recognised by the Graveolase, which after all was the point of this journey.

Vladimir looked with heavy eyes from the paper to Ludwig, then back to the paper. He handed it back to the strange man, and with hard features (but softened voice) said, "Da. Vas Chteniye Dushi. You have invitation, remarkably offputting Teuton. I have qvestions, many qvestions for you, but can vait for the now. Graveolase prepares in Grand Pavilion." There were notes of annoyance and confusion floating about in his mind, things which he was certain followed this man about like flies to carrion. Far be it for him to deny a person or organization the same access to the Graveolase that he also sought because of this.

Such was his belief in this ideal that, when the insatiable Mr. Clops made his grand exit, it barely registered with him except for the reaction of the German man hiding behind him. He just sighed, shook his head, and relented, "Da. Meeting Graveolase. You, you are in Tent City of Russian Imperial Circus. Is homes for many peoples. Do not enter tents, do not enter vagons vithout permission. For now, eat, drink, laugh, dance... But respectful! Or you vill vitness firsthand vhat it means to be Bazhooli'ed!" Vladimir replaced the knife in his hand with a grand flourish, spinning it about as he spoke. "Is not pleasant. Not for you. Ve have agreement?" The Great Bazhooli stood with a look of stern impatience, very curious as to the nature of this man who, though with less-than-ideal entrance, was apparently supposed to be there. That fact alone raised questions.

@Sigil

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Constantin Kolev

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus - Tent City
Skills: Tretiy Glaz(passive), Fal'shbort(passive)

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Annoying. Yes that was Constantin's day so far. The fact that Veta survived a near certain death wasn't really a benefit for the day's case since she also got herself into a near death situation. Then he got covered in snot twice... Once by tiger and then by crazy german person who he now had to suppress the overwhelming urge to punch. He was important guest so he couldn't sadly.” Vhy is this day going like this?” Constantin asked himself as he walked the streets between tents to get himself back to the tent his family was using. He's expression was grim, his clothing dirty and damn it was showing because the shirt for his firedancing costume was white.

Grumbling he pushed his way into the tent an rubbed his temples, throwing a look at his clothing. His main set of clothing was still wet from the debacle in the morning with the freezing water. They were all nicely placed on ropes in the tent to dry up, but frankly with this London weather and general high air moisture it wasn't working too great. Then there was the tiger ruined shirt... and now this....” Did I anger someone up there, no I still live so I probably haven't. Then someone's just playing me for laughs. Maybe it's a vily's revenge... haha” He sighed, throwing his dirty shirt aside at a pile of other dirty clothing and laid on his bed.

Yeah he was running out of clothing. Well not surprising considering they were traveling circus and they didn't exactly have too much space for spare sets of clothing along the rest of the luggage. In the end with some annoyance he rummaged about his father's clothing, finding himself one of his shirts. They wore pretty similar sizes overall so it was fine and this one had a pretty decent tear on the right elbow from being worn for lots of years, but hey at least it was clean.

Rivaan

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Thalken Talink

Goatdammit!!!

- "Kill Everybody" by Skrillex (Goat Remix)

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Location: Devonshire Terrace --> Marylebone Rd.
Skills: N/A

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Thalken was looking out the carriage window when a streak of white in the dark landscape caught his eye. His brows furrowed slightly. "What the hell--" he began, before his words were promptly cut off as the carriage suddenly lurched to the side. His eyes widened and his muscles tensed as he fumbled to grab ahold of something to steady himself. The sound of the horses' distressed snorts could barely be heard above the sounds of their hooves scraping and scrambling across the gravel underfoot. A distinct cracking sound could then be heard and the carriage itself began to tilt to the side, sending a jolt of panic through Thalken. Thank God, the carriage didn't end up turning over, but instead it soon settled into its new cockeyed position.

An involuntary sigh of relief left Thalken's lips as things came to a calm standstill. However, it wasn't lost on him that something or someone had caused his carriage, of all carriages, to nearly wreck. His gaze darkened to something more akin to the fearless mercenary that he is, or rather was. One hand was still bracing himself against the frame of the carriage, while the other adeptly unsheathed one of his throwing knives from the sheath attached to his left thigh. He twirled the knife in his hand before holding it close to his chest. His hand went for the carriage door, and he slowly, almost soundlessly, opened it slightly and slithered outside. He swiveled the knife in his hand to hold it at the ready, as his dark eyed gaze quickly surveyed his surroundings for the "threat."

The white blur of a runaway goat in gladiator gear of all things suddenly ran past him as it let a loud, obnoxious MAAAAAA. Before his pride could quell it, a startled yelp left Thalken's lips, and he jumped backwards out of the critter's way. "God dammit!!" he exclaimed in typical Thalken fashion. As the critter disappeared with a resounding MAAAA back into the night for which it came, his gaze finally took in the damage that had been done to the carriage. "God dammit," he grumbled, his arms falling back down to his sides. He glared at the blasted broken wheel then glared out in the direction that the wretched goat had disappeared off to, before stating dejectedly, "I hate goats."

@Mnkee

[FantasyChic]

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Colette de La Fontaine

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Location: Heaton Hall, Garden -> Heaton Hall, Ladies Room; Manchester, England
Skills: None at this time

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Colette felt secure despite being alone at this party. It was a feeling she hadn't felt often while at home. As much as she loved her parents, their watchful eye on her every activity often grew tiresome. She longed for times when she could independently study or train without having them bother her. Of course, she was never truly alone. If Ida wasn't watching her, she knew her father had someone close by.

Given the recent attack here, she found it hard to argue against it, but at the same time why was she trained in combat if she wasn't supposed to use it? She didn't want to seek out a fight, but she would never shy away from one. Much like her brother, she didn't back down from confrontation.

She finished her flute of champagne before checking herself. She could use a powder and her shoes were getting a bit tiresome to walk in. As she walked inside, she thought of the many other things she was aching to do. She wanted to tour the town, but she was sure Ida would be against it and Ida would not let her leave without some escort. She would have to think of a clever way around that. Of course, she had her disguise, but she wanted to save that for a different day. Colette actually wanted to tour the town as a member of the upper class. One was usually treated differently.

Colette stepped inside and noted the attendant on duty. The smell was inviting. She saw a few others inside. She made her way over to touch up her make-up and help herself to a sweet. After this, she really should practice some English and hold a conversation with someone.