[center][img]http://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ccff888e-d2a3-4f6d-a340-d0c5f453075c.png[/img]
[h1][b][i][color=a187be]Elizaveta Romanova[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://38.media.tumblr.com/b7f05cad976600c1539dff698e89e7b2/tumblr_inline_nrxsipeAuk1t5prjz_500.gif[/img][hr][b][color=a187be]Location:[/color][/b]  St. Etheldreda's - Undercroft[hr][/center]

	[color=a187be]"I thank you for your hospitality and your understanding. I knov it is not my place to step in such situations the way I have but time s of the essence,"[/color] Elizaveta said in a calm voice as she stood there looking over towards Mary. As her guard came back with a small embroidered bag she took it in her hands gingerly and uttered something in Russian that could have been a thank you from the nod she was given in return. 

	Turning she waited for her guard to pulled the heavy formal robe off her shoulders, gathering the folds of her skirt in one hand she knelt down beside the body and released the tie on her bag. Pulling from it an egg that was rather large for what it was but it was no ordinary egg. It was made of golden and silver, gems and craftsmanship beyond compare. Unbeknownst to Elizaveta, these eggs would become the height of gifting fashion by the end of the century but for now, she handled it like a holy relic. Careful and with a deep amount of respect. 

	Her guard laid the robe he had removed form her shoulders over the dearly departed and formed a small dip in the fabric for Elizaveta to rest the egg in, cradling it securely there on the deceased. Taking a long breath Elizaveta looked up to those standing within the under-croft. [color=a187be]"This vill take some time, and perhaps may not be something you have vitnessed before. Please trust in the process and do not interfere. The Ostanavlivat'sya is unforgiving and it can mistake you as the soul."[/color] Her voice was as calm and even as always but there was an inflection of dire warning in her tone. Like one would have with a child warning them not to touch the hot stove. 

	Then she began, chanting something in Russian it seemed. Simple enough to begin, like a prayer it seemed the way she kept her head lowered and her hand resting on relic of sorts. The longer she prayers, the more still she became, as if she was turning to stone as she spoke. As the minutes ticked away it seemed like nothing was going to happen until suddenly from beneath her fingers the egg sprouted open and what looked like a holy white light manifestation of death with a scythe erupted it from. It looked with darkness as eyes towards the Bishop who barely was able to keep his feet rooted in place. It's eyes turned to each person in turn, looking at them before a banshee like screech came from the wispy lighted figure as he flew up and roamed around the room as if searching, like a blood hound on the trail. 

	A darkness started to form in the corner of the under-croft, looking like a shadowy figure of the woman that lay before them, a long rope like shadow connecting the two. Swooping in the Ostanavlivat'sya charged the rope which tried to wrap itself around the Ostanavlivat'sya but it was quicker and within minutes of carefully executed movements another wail came but this time from the body of the dead woman as the rope was cut. The shadow freezing in place before its darkness turned to light and then it vanished. The Ostanavlivat'sya swept the room again before flying back into the egg which still had Elizaveta's hand over it, her voice still praying as it did. It was not until the light was gone and the egg closed again did Elizaveta stop and look up, a long breath escaping her lips. 

	[color=a187be]"Vater please,"[/color] she said in a quiet rough voice as she started to stand, her guard rushing over to her and the other rushing to place the egg back into the egg. It had taken longer than she had wished, nearly two hours of prayer but it was done and the woman's soul was safe. There would be no soulless from this woman. 

	Over at Almack's during the time Elizaveta spent in prayer much happened. Mosi arrived at Almack's and was able to determine that at least three of the Presence Guards were down or destroyed. How and why one could not even begin to fathom but she had the skill and training to fix these desperately needed totems. 

	Surrounding Almack's on stone pillars were what looked to the untrained eye just torches but on closer look one could see what were Native carvings like a totem pole on each, woven with various bird feathers. The ones that were broken broke the circle that surrounded left Almack's more vulnerable. Not completely but without a full set for the area it would be easier for something to breach the perimeter. It would take Mosi a good hour or two to complete them. To carve from materials provided and housed at Almack's but it could be done. She would be able to finish up shortly before the first guest arrived. 

[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=0072bc]Millicent Wyndham[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K3RwQuykRy8/VraPXgbFwWI/AAAAAAAAQzo/j8JapaN9UEE/s1600/tumblr_o23f0kvmYo1qijnxzo1_500.gif[/img][hr][b][color=0072bc]Location:[/color][/b] Wyndham Estate near Hyde Park -> Almack's[hr][/center]

	"Millicent Grey Wyndham, you mustn't dally. We will be late," Mrs. Wyndham bellowed as she ushered her other two daughters into the carriage. "Where is that no good stable hand?" she snapped as Millicent stepped into the carriage and took her seat. 

	[color=0072bc]"He was helping Darcy with the poor departed woman, I suspect the travel to the Tower of London took longer than expected mother. Do not fret, we are in excellent hands,"[/color] Millicent assured her mother, the young boy from earlier who had driven the hackney for the others taking his place on the Wyndham's carriage. 

	"I'll get ya there quicker than a jackrabbit m'lady," the boy said in a happy voice. Mrs. Wyndham just scoffed and went on and on about this and that. About how her girls should behave, belittling Millicent constantly, warning her who to stay away from - which was every decent man in the city from the looks at of - and telling her she better had make amends to Lord Ratherford for her unspeakable behavior earlier in the day. 

	Millicent just sat stoic as she took the verbal battery and took a deep breath as they made their way towards Almacks. Her cheek was bruised but covered with heavy powder. It still hurt but she would deal. She always did. By the time they arrived many of the guests were pouring out of their respective carriages and Millicent looked around as she helped her mother out of the carriage. Her mother was dressed with the most up to date of the time clothing, as were her sisters. In the right pale colors to attract a suitor. Millicent had chosen a dark blue, with black lace overlays. It made her look as much the spinster as she was but she did not care. She looked lovely in the color and it complimented her dark hair and eyes well.