[hr][hr][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/6db984d3-4c29-457c-84f7-fd720c6f3470.png[/img][/center]
[center][img]https://img.buzzfeed.com/buzzfeed-static/static/2014-11/16/18/enhanced/webdr02/grid-cell-1156-1416180408-2.jpg[/img][/center][hr][center][color=firebrick][b]Passive Skills:[/b][/color] [list][*] [u]Fal'shbort[/u] - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian! [*] [u]Tretiy Glaz[/u] - An ability that gives a person a sixth sense into the future. Unpredictable and random.[/list][/center][hr][hr][center][color=firebrick][b]Location:[/b][/color] (Outside of) Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park) [/center][hr][hr]

	Vladimir wanted to hurl his knives at the foul thing as it retreated. He wanted to crush the unlife from it with his bare hands. He wanted to do so many hurtful things, but the Beast had put his Elizaveta into immediate, mortal peril. The experienced Russian knew that he could not plow through the ice and hope that his superior Cossack-ness would save the both of them, though he did not fully rule out the possibility. However, he knew that Veta did not have the luxury of his "maybe". There was only one of them present that stood any realistic possibility of saving her. 

	As it turned out, Contstantin came to the same conclusion that he did. As the younger performer called out to him, telling him to try freeing the tiger from his icy Bastille, Vladimir was already on his way. Scrambling across the ice, the frenzied Impalement Artist began frantically attacking the ice around Myshka; at first with the blade in his hand and then with his fists, trying his damnedest to dislodge the powerful beast from the surface of the unnaturally frozen lake. As he worked, he could be heard continually and urgently saying things like, [color=firebrick]"Get Veta, please get Veta back, Myshka. You do this, good kitty. Come on, ve get you out..."[/color]

	There was righteous pride in him, Vladimir realized, as he came through the fog in the first place. He had expected one of the more common Soulless from his homeland, something with which he was familiar. But this [i]thing[/i] was not Golgravitz. He could only wish that his error hadn't indirectly killed Veta. 


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[sub][color=c0c0c0]"Behold, I send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you."[/color][/sub]
[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] St. Etheldreda's [/center][hr][hider=St. Etheldreda's Church/Ely House][center][img]http://cdn.ltstatic.com/2009/March/NL277860_942long.jpg[/img][/center][/hider][hr][hr]

	Addressing Sister Lazarus's comments, Mary simply smiled and bowed her head to the wisdom of the elder Nun, saying, [color=c0c0c0]"You are correct of course, Sister. We have always been in the middle of a war for our souls. I fear this time, it shall be less metaphorical and more of a direct assault. Please take care of yourself. The world needs your precise hand and singular wit, still."[/color] 

	Considering the question of her letters, Mary responded with a more businesslike, [color=c0c0c0]"If it please you, I would ask that you copy the first letter with haste and return it immediately. Respectfully, Sister, I need to present this where I am traveling, and if God is willing, I shall depart in a quarter hour. The second letter is more of a personal communication between myself and His Holiness, but I have no objection if a copy is added to the archives. I can return for it later."[/color] 

	Mary looked back to Adam. He seemed restless, as a little boy might when faced with a few indeterminate minutes of waiting in a boring room filled with papers and books, while grownups had grownup conversations about serious things. Mary marveled at the resilience of children. He had just been through an unexplained event, he was hearing directly that Soulless were on the prowl, and yet ere was this boy, anxious to see a lady who looked like a princess, who had visited him once in the infirmary. Something else was odd; Adam seemed to be cold. It wasn't the most pleasant morning, but this was an English [i]summer[/i]. Mary peered inquisitively at him for a moment, tucking this new detail away in her memory. It might be that she had something else to discuss with the Grand Duchess. 

	The moment that Sister Lazarus finished with the message from the Grand Cross, Mary retrieved it and put it securely into her sporran bag. She politely thanked the elder Archivist and looked back to Adam, holding out her hand, [color=c0c0c0]"Come along then. Let us grab a little something from the kitchen and see where dear Sister Alma has gotten off to. You need to look your best if we are to be in the presence of the Grand Duchess this morning."[/color]