[hr][hr][center][img]http://fontmeme.com/permalink/161203/27a034e8ea53c1b04481b19ad78c9a9c.png[/img][/center] [center][img]http://i68.tinypic.com/66dpxw.jpg[/img][/center] [center][b][color=DC143C]Location:[/color][/b] Almack’s [color=DC143C]“Sometimes the good you do won’t do you any good.”[/color] [/center][hr][hr] Fyror could see the distress in Millicent’s demeanor. Her emotions seemed to roll off of her in palatable waves that one with even an inkling of empathy could easily perceive. The fact that Lord Rutherford clearly had no such empathy, or any regard for her wellbeing, alarmed Fyror and tore him up inside. He should have never allowed himself to even hope that he had found a woman he could grow to love, for life had a cruel tendency of squashing hope. He of all people should know that. Yet, here he was nonetheless, in an entirely foreign dilemma, torn between desire and honor. His mind told him that it would be dishonorable to mettle in the affairs of those who were to be wed. However, he also questioned if it was honorable to allow a woman to be forced to wed a dishonorable man whom she clearly did not want. As a tear rolled down Millicent’s cheek, Fyror desired more than anything to hold her in his arms once more and wipe away her tears. He wanted to comfort her and put her at ease, something Lord Rutherford seemed incapable and uninterested in doing. He wanted to fight tooth and nail for this woman, to protect her from this wretched man and whatever darkness lied ahead. [i]Why did she go back to Lord Rutherford, when the man clearly caused her such pain?[/i] Fyror’s internal questioning seemed to answer itself when Millicent’s younger sister Jane came over. The two sisters shared a silent, mutually understood conversation with one another. It seemed that Jane felt bad that her sister was in this current predicament, but she also seemed…[i]grateful?[/i] It suddenly dawned on Fyror that perhaps Millicent had saved her sisters from similar fates. [i]How dare that man put these women into such compromising positions! And how dare their mother for encouraging this![/i] A newfound fire lit up his eyes as his now angry gaze swung to Lord Rutherford. He found that the man was paying no attention to him or his fiancé. Instead he was preoccupied with the Grand Duchess Elizaveta. Fyror turned his attention to Dame Mary Hale as she spoke up. [i]Soulless are already here?![/i] His jaw clenched, and his heart dropped into his stomach. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword before his gaze returned to Millicent. Despite how much he hated and distrusted Lord Rutherford, the man needed to get his fiancé to somewhere safer. However, the man ignorantly scoffed at the idea that Soulless were here and had the gall to leave Millicent undefended! Fyror glared at Lord Rutherford as the man left. His gaze softened once more when he looked at Millicent again. She seemed to take a moment to comprehend the current situation before hurrying to leave. He was about to protest, but his thoughts were quickly jumbled by her subsequent action. As she parted the folds of her dress to unsheathe a well-hidden sword, she revealed part of her pale thigh. He gulped and quickly averted his gaze as his face flushed. He awkwardly stood like that for a few moments, trying to keep his thoughts from lingering on the amount of skin he had just seen. He eventually returned his gaze in a hesitant manner. Unfortunately, she had already taken off. He spotted her swiftly crossing the room with her sword at hand. He was compelled to go after her and ensure her safety. However, he just stood there for a moment, weighing his options as he rubbed his temple with his fingers. Though it pained him to do so, he reluctantly came to the decision that he had to let her go. It was not right and honorable for him to solely protect her, as if the lives of the others here were significantly less important or less valuable than hers. He let out a sigh and turned to the group of women surrounding him. [color=DC143C]“I need to alert my father Colonel Theodore of this new predicament, that way he can gather up the other officers and do as he sees fit with them. From thereafter, consider myself at your service ladies, Grand Duchess Romanova, Dame Hale, Ms. Crane, and Ms. Crypt,”[/color] he stated, addressing each individual. He gave a slight respectful bow before going off to find his father. [hr][hr] [hr][hr][center][img]http://fontmeme.com/permalink/170105/6f250f0a6ea652257bed529aa7c3eef0.png[/img][/center] [center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/3bed386c-295f-4b5e-b183-b6532772a1ba.gif[/img][/center] [center][b][color=556B2F]Location:[/color][/b] Almack’s [color=556B2F]“You want a fight. I’ll bring a war.”[/color] [/center][hr][hr] As was typical of him, Thalken’s first course of action at any given place was to find a good vantage point. His criteria were specific. It must be relatively secluded, and it must provide him a broad overall view of the room. In other words, it had to be an area that not many people saw or visited, a low traffic area essentially. This would help prevent him from being detected by most people. Ultimately, this spot had to give him the ability to view the world under his critical gaze without having to directly engage with it. For that was just the way he liked it. Thalken, with his twin sister Thalcona in tow, found a nearby vantage point that would suffice. It was tucked away at the edge of the ballroom, hidden partially in shadows. It provided him a decent view of the room, which was bustling with activity. His intense dark eyed gaze scanned the crowds, focusing momentarily on different groups of people before quickly moving on to more interesting subjects. The music continued to drone on as people danced and conversed with one another. Supposedly, this was meant to be an enjoyable and enriching event of the Season, but Thalken found it to be quite the contrary. It was really just depressing, and the whole atmosphere of fake civility truly grated on his nerves. He let out a sigh as he leaned back against the wall. He pushed back his long overcoat and pulled out one of his throwing knives from its sheath attached to his left thigh. He began twirling the knife in his hand, liking the way the cool metal felt on his skin, as he continued to look about the room. His gaze eventually landed on the group surrounding the Grand Duchess Elizaveta, as they stood out from the rest of the people here. There were two finely dressed gentlemen present in the group, one whom was clearly an officer in the British infantry. The other man had a sullen looking woman on his arm. There were four other additional women in the group: a foreigner of noble birth, a woman of the Catholic church, a veiled woman dressed in all black, and that pale skinned woman he had noticed earlier. There was a tension about them that sort of intrigued him. “So are we just going stand—” Thalcona started to speak up but Thalken quickly held up a finger to silence her. He stopped twirling the knife in his hand and abruptly pushed away from the wall. His gaze was locked intently on the group as the glint of metal had caught his attention. Several of the women were unsheathing weapons, and soon some of those in the group broke away from the others. His gaze followed a chestnut-haired woman as she determinedly made her way across the room with what appeared to be a Chinese style Jian sword in her hand. [i]It looks like this hell is about to get interesting.[/i]