[center][img]http://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ccff888e-d2a3-4f6d-a340-d0c5f453075c.png[/img][h1][b][color=2956b2]March 22nd, 1823[/color][/b][/h1]
[img]http://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ccff888e-d2a3-4f6d-a340-d0c5f453075c.png[/img][h1][b][i][color=2956b2]Port Annan, Scotland[/color][/i][/b][/h1][hr][/center]

	[color=2956b2][b][i]Teriny Inn:[/i][/b][/color] Nigel was happy to oblige and hurried off to the kitchen after excusing himself. The place was quiet, save for one man who came in with his coat off and shaking it violently to shed the water from it. It wasn't raining outside but all became clear when he started speaking to himself about if the man who had bumped into him and caused a barrel of water to soak him hadn't been a member of the clergy he would have met his maker. Seemed the parson was up to his usual shenanigans. Who else could have cause it?

	Nigel came back and set down a wide bowl of steel cut in front of Maeve, with a plate of fruit next to it. "Was not sure which you would like but.." he said pointing to the cube like chunks of a yellow fleshed fruit he smiled. "I did a favor and was reward with these. It's pineapple." Such a rare treat in Europe from the Americas. The cost to import them was astounding and those grown in the Isles had to be grown in hot houses few could ever hope to afford. Few had even heard of the fruit, much less seen or tasted one. "I thought you might like to try," he said before sitting down opposite of the bar to answer her previous question. 

	"Oh the Cumming family. Interesting lot, bit of an underworld type," he said quietly. "Don't know much about them other than the Parson there who seems to not have followed in the family business as it were," he chuckled a bit. "Probably fer the best, the man is more of a danger to himself than anyone else." 

[center][hr][h1][b][i][color=2956b2]London, England[/color][/i][/b][/h1][hr][/center]

	[b][i][color=2956b2]The Glimmeric:[/color][/i][/b] Sarah Ann quivered as she stood there with her back to the body and looked over to Frances. "Was horrible! Just awful! I be walking down the street and suddenly his body rolled down the road there like a run away wagon. Stopped right at me feet it did!" the girl exclaimed. It was clear she was not used to dead bodies popping up out of no where, though few were. At least not like this. It wasn't uncommon to find a dead soul around these parts from time to time but that was either in a bed in the house of ill-repute, too much heart strain, or in a dark alleyway when a so called business transaction went wrong. This, was new. 

	"Call for the constable!" the local butcher, Michael Grimes, shouted as he looked at the body, his cleaver still in hand for he had been working on cutting and sectioning the meat fresh to be hopefully sold today in his shop. A boy of no more than twelve nodded, his page cap nearly flying off his head as he ran up the street to locate one. "Don't kill yerself running Thomas!" he bellowed out as he shook his head. Thomas was a good lad but got over excited easily, this only added fuel to the fire. Attaching the cleaver to his belt he sighed and looked over to Frances. "She alright?" he asked in a concerned voice. Micheal was one of the few in the area that didn't treat the girls like garbage. 

	[b][i][color=2956b2]Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park):[/color][/i][/b] The banging of the pot with the blade got attention alright but it was probably not the type of attention that Constantin was hoping for. Various members of the circus looked at him as if he was nuts, others just pure curiosity, several chuckled as Vlad went into his speech. Though out of everyone that heard the noise, it seemed that Elizaveta had not, or if she had, still had not returned to the tent city by the time the flamboyant knife artist made his way into the fog. 

	Within the fog, it as thick and kept getting thicker. It was like moving through a lake at one point. Unnaturally thick. The fog seemed to ripple as one walked through it, like pebbles dropped in a pond and whatever noise happened outside of the fog seemed not to permeate into the fog itself. Vlad, being at least a few steps ahead of everyone else in the circus at this point was alone. Anyone else venturing in, would not be able to see or hear him at this point. They would not be able to see their own out stretched hand once they were within the fog. The fog left the skin, hair, and clothing soaked and heavy within minutes and it left an odd chill on the skin even though the fog itself felt warm. 

	[b][i][color=2956b2]Wyndham Manor:[/color][/i][/b] "Oh I dos hope so Mr. Gerard. Haven't heard from her since she left last night and Miss Emma is still asleep in her room. Think she could have gotten up by now and went to check on her sister and mother. Been fretful hours worrying about Miss Milli. What if the hospital thought she had fallen into a spell after the attack?" Abigail wondered out loud as she looked around the garden worried. Her hands grasping at the apron over her dress. 

	"You! Get the carriage together! And you, find my maid!" Emma's voice called out from Millicent's window. She looked frightfully upset but it was the same look her mother got anytime someone was not instantaneously at her beck and call. Abigails head nearly spun off as it spun around and looked up sharply. 

	"Yes Miss.." she said before Emma stormed off in a huff. "I betters find that girl before Miss Emma wants me head," she said before gathering the folds of her skirt and huffing it back up to the house. "Why's couldn't that one be the one who lost her ability to speak..." she muttered to herself. Not that she wished the young woman harm but her voice was just as grating as Mrs. Wyndham's, some silence from either of them would have been welcome. 

	[b][i][color=2956b2]St. Etheldreda's:[/color][/i][/b] The boy looked over to Mary, slowly standing back up and nodding as he glanced around. "A...Adam, me names Adam..." he said as he bit his bottom lip. "That...that woman, pretty with the gown? Looked like a princess she did, she here?" he asked quietly as his hand came up and rested on Mary's forearm, clasping it weakly as he looked around in a nervous fashion. He seemed dazed and confused right then. 

	Sister Alma watched before looking over to Mary. "Oh, yes. I have them," she said absentmindedly as she started to search through the folds of her habit. After a few minutes she stopped herself, tapping her finger on her chin. "No, wait. Sister Mary Lazarus has them. She asked me to deliver the message that she had them for you," she said in an apologetic voice. "I am very sorry, seems my mind is not where it should be this day."

	[b][i][color=2956b2]Crypt Manor:[/color][/i][/b] The gardener sighed deeply as the flower finally burned out. Shaking his head he took his hat off and twisted it a bit before turning and walking towards the manor. He had work to do, a lot of work, but he needed to inform Lady Crypt of what was going on before he started anything else. This was not a conversation he was looking forward to. Granted, conversations with the Crypts were always a bit nerve racking for him but he managed. He enjoyed his work and even though the Crypts were the definition of eccentric, they were kind enough to him. 

	Stepping into the manor he glanced around before checking the breakfast nook and the dining room. Not seeing Virginia anywhere he sighed and continued to search through the large manor. Calling out every so often. "Mister Alfred? Lady Crypt? Master Crypt?" he would say from time to time. That was until he came to the stairs and spotted the three of them. "Oh there you are. Lady Crypt, cans I have a word with you about the garden?"