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[sub][color=c0c0c0]"...give me understanding, that I may know thy testimonies."[/color][/sub]
[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] Almack's [/center][hr][hr]

	Mary extended her senses into the Vatican training of [b]Tanter[/b], probing the rooms and grounds around her to ascertain whether or not her more martial skills would have to come into play in the near future. At first, she got nothing. Pouring more focus into the skill, the dedicated Apostolic continued to feel out the setting of Almack's Assembly Rooms, searching intently for any sign of more hidden Soulless. Thankfully, she found no evidence that was detectable by her abilities. The vastly more likely explanation of those results were that, because they weren't bothering to disguise themselves as human earlier, they had left the area entirely. This left antagonists of a more common variety with which to deal.

	Her thoughts briefly drifted back to the "Lord" from earlier who had tried to steal her halberd, and the row that broke out in the Musician's Gallery that resulted in at least one person's death. People were shoved, trampled in humanity's push to save their own skin. The Ton had proven that they were not the bravest and the boldest that the British Empire had to offer; merely the ones birthed to the right families and with the socially acceptable gender to control vast amounts of authority and finance that was the life's blood of the United Kingdom. 

	She was just about to share her findings with Elizaveta and Virginia when she noticed two things. The first was a touch toward the subtle, a young man readying a throwing knife in Veta's general direction. Despite her very recent change of status, Mary was still a Knight at heart, her charge this evening being the Grand Duchess Elizaveta. The blade lowered, but Mary's eyes remained narrowed at the man. Until the second thing happened, anyway. The appearance of a loud, highly presumptuous man in a red waistcoat, tossing his top hat and greatcoat at the nearest member of the gentry and acting as if it were a privilege to receive them. Mary shifted her polearm slightly, divided at to which was the potential threat in this situation, until he realized that the loud man was speaking in a highly inflected Russian accent. It seemed extremely likely, given that they were in London, that Veta and this strange man knew one another. 

	At least he knew how to make an entrance. Following his grandiose production of offering servitude to Elizaveta, Mary intoned quietly but seriously, [color=c0c0c0]"To business: Your Grace, Lady Crypt, it seems quiet for the time being. Perhaps we should see to our deceased, following formalities."[/color] 


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[center][color=firebrick][b]Location:[/b][/color] Almack's Assembly Rooms [/center]
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	Before Elizaveta could finish verbalizing her request for assistance with standing, Vladimir had already snapped to his feet. He swiftly twirled his blades back onto his person, and assumed a low dancer's stance. The dramatic Russian lightly took hold of the Grand Duchess's hand and aided her in her vertical relocation, maintaining a slightly bowed head all the while. 

	His introduction to the paler noblewoman nearby was met with an interested raise of one eyebrow. Vladimir did so enjoy meeting new people. He bowed low and from the waist, offering a kiss to the back of her hand. [color=firebrick]"Ov course, this is [i]Lady[/i] Crypt."[/color] His words seemed directed at Elizaveta, but his eyes held fast with Virginia's. [color=firebrick]"This young voman [i]screams[/i] stoic intensity, vith exqvisitely beauteous, alabaster face and eyes like sword-iron in cloudy sky. My Lady Crypt, aristocrats ov room stare at you, and are [i]shamed[/i] vith jealousy!"[/color] He straightened to his full height, a small card appearing in his hand with a snap of his fingers. He offered it over to his new acquaintance, verbalizing much of what was written on the piece of trimmed stock paper (in English and Russian): [color=firebrick]"Honor is mine. Privetstviye, ah... Salutation, Lady Crypt. I am Vladimir Alexandrov, heir to the Baron Alexandrov; and I have honor of introduction as "The Great Bazhooli", of Bazhooli Sem'ya - Master of Impalement Arts. Am at your service, iv need."[/color]

	He smiled a warm but slightly mischievous grin, and looked to the women gathered around. The Catholic, the Lady, and the Grand Duchess. Then he remembered that there was a particularly dead person on the floor with the cloak of a Papal Knight shrouding the corpse, as well as a general sense of dwindling urgency in the room. Come to think of it, he thought he noticed a few carriages and people on foot out front moving as fast as they could away from their present location. It seemed odd, but who knew what really happened at these upper-crust London gatherings? It could very well be like one of the Circus's party games, wherein a large circle is drawn upon the ground and a skilled archer fires an arrow straight up into the air. The last person to flee the circle before the arrow returned to the ground was declared the winner; also, probably required the attention of a skilled surgeon. Such were the frivolities of some of the younger performers; more nerve than style. 

	Party games aside, a questioning look etched itself on his face, growing to angered alarm. His hands idly moved to two particularly painful looking knives from his personal arsenal as he voiced his waxing concern. [color=firebrick]"Vait... vhat has happened in this place? And vhy is scary Catholic girl looking for dead peoples?"   [/color]