[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=c0c0c0]The Great Bazhooli[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0c830ac3-637e-4722-a654-d4192b0bd4c2.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]7[/b] (Rec Center)
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	Now that was interesting. Unexpected. Possibly even more unexpected than finding another Russian speaker in central Georgia, was to find an [i]actual[/i] Russian. Further, one who was tipped off that, while Cossack, he was as much American as most anyone else in the area. He just happened to be raised in an actual, fully functioning Russian Circus operating within the United States. Hell of an upbringing. Close to adulthood, it broke up. But the family stayed together, as family does. Just now as independent contractors with one hell of a respectable background in their field. 

	Russkiy Bazhooli Semeynyy, in the Motherland. Here, the more familiar "Russian Bazhooli Family", as led by generation after generation of the most qualified member of the clan, given the title of Velikiy Bazhooli, or The Great Bazhooli. He liked the English version of his title better. It seemed to have more of an air of circumstance about it. 

	But back to his chunk of the unexpected: Bazhooli had not imagined a future in which a ballerina would be asking him to learn his craft. He was a touch awestruck by the idea. It wasn't the same as the close-knit, one generation teaches the next method that had worked for his people since the Impalement Arts were a thing, but he did want to ensure that his skills did not die with him. The old ones, or the new. 

	Tatiana's words pressed into him. "Teach me.", she had said. The Great Bazhooli looked back into her eyes, looking for a hint of dishonesty or ulterior motive. In the end, he did not speak, merely nodding his head slowly. Yeah, he would teach. They weren't family, but let's face it - he was the last one left anyway. Family would have to be redefined. 



[hr][hr][center][h1][color=firebrick]Black James(!)[/color][/h1]
[img]https://v.cdn.vine.co/r/avatars/6AE78329E91063505631975227392_pic-r-1396533712688c4afde8ecf.jpg.jpg?versionId=ZnGOSit0zozlhxpJk0w6QVx4cSozVRdq[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]B[/b] (Zoie's House) -> Building [b]2[/b], Mess Hall
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	A one-armed hug was the best offer that James had gotten all day. He was careful not to even touch the area side that was operated on earlier that day. I mean, it's not every day that you get shot, receive emergency surgery from a man in the middle of his own pillowed half to death by an overtly racist boyfriend, then get served smoked venison and cabbage by one's oldest living friend prior to getting ready for a show put on by what might be the last two Russian performers left alive on the continent. 

	Or to put it differently, Black James wanted to take it easy on her. She's been mostly dead all day. 

	He accepted her empty plate and walked towards the door. [color=firebrick]"How's about you [i]really[/i] get rest, little lady, and don't just tell me you gonna. I's be back later. You be good, now."[/color] James flashed a broad grin as he closed the door behind him. It was just his way. James was going to be James, Zoie was going to be Zoie. Way of things. 

	James chuckled, off and on, all the way back to the Mess Hall to drop off the plates. 



[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=orangered]Bridgette Vinters[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d5/b4/78/d5b478ac0063ce48f5bab3cb5648b0a1.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Within the Outer Wall, Livestock area - Stables -> Following Astrid 
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	Bridgette listened as she got the Reader's Digest condensed version of what was going on. Some [i]other[/i] community needed help, apparently. Some other community that they hadn't discovered during their travels in and around the American Southeast on horseback. Must be new. Or out of the way. From the sound if it, they weren't very far away either, if Astrid had promised to be back home quickly. 

	 [color=orangered]"Holde seg sterk."[/color] repeated back Bridgette. [color=orangered]"Hells yes I'm going to holde seg fucking sterk..."[/color] She looked to her horse, Cadence. Fully armed, saddled, tacked. Perfectly taken care of, only on light duty today, and rested besides. Fed, provisioned, and more importantly, ready to go. Bridgette watched Astrid ride off toward the gate, apparently go ride off with total strangers on some mission of mercy. It was going to be dark fairly soon. No, she didn't like this at all. Her plans for the day had been pretty much destroyed from the get-go. No sense in ruining a streak. 

	The contemporary Valkyrie pulled her hair back and took up her shield, slinging it across her back. She deftly swung herself atop Cadence, and urged him forward at a trot. It wasn't until Astrid had gotten back to the main gate that Bridgette caught up, immediately exclaiming, [color=orangered]"Hey! You aren't riding off into any goddamed sunset without me, Sis. We're doing this."[/color]

	She looked to Ash, [color=orangered]"You're all good at the stables. Oh! Two horses could use a brushdown. Don't [i]need[/i], but... Well, fuckit. If it ain't done when we get back, it's on me. So! Where are we going?"[/color] 


[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=steelblue]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://31.media.tumblr.com/bcfab66a674d39bfaaddc28bd62d4470/tumblr_inline_ne41kcr5UN1s5par2.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Main Gate
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	Captain Holloway looked to Astrid, curious as to the extension of her hand. She didn't do physical contact. With the smallest amount of skepticism, he reached out and took her hand firmly, and released it. [color=steelblue]"No matter what else happens out there, you see to you first. Help if you can, but getting back safe is your priority. Got me?"[/color] 

	It was about then that Bridgette rode up, in a classic demonstration of being herself as bluntly as possible. Ash wasn't too keen on letting more people ride right into uncertainty, but before he could say anything about it, his walkie blared to life. It was Meghna. And she was making a vein pop out in Ash's forehead with every word she spoke. So much as he tried to rein in the stricter, more rigid elements of his background of military command, when something along these lines crept up, he very clearly felt a need to remind people exactly who was boss. Ash had no intention of saying it with flowers. With obviously restrained anger, he thumbed on his walkie and spoke in an enunciated growl, his native Virginian accent prominent.

	[color=steelblue]"Everyone who can hear this needs to stop what they are doing, and [i]listen as hard as you can[/i]. Security details, and to be clear, this includes security personnel on escort duty: You respond to two people - Your Security Lead, Zoie Crawford, and your Commanding Officer, Captain Ashton Holloway. If the Chain is altered, you will be informed. Under no circumstances, I repeat, NO CIRCUMSTANCES, will you take orders from anyone else, unless some massive shit has hit a massive fan. Anyone who doesn't understand this is welcome to leave."

	Now, escort duty: I have not interviewed nor vetted our most recent arrival petitioning for entry. That's on me. Shit happens. Did, in fact. If you abandon your post on orders from our [i]Domestic[/i] Lead, you are going to [i]wish[/i] you were just shoveling shit for a month."

	"Meg: Fetch a meal for our man. Immediately. Then make yourself extremely available."[/color]