[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] Russian Imperial Circus - Tent City (Regent's Park)[/center][hr][hr]

	The Great Bazhooli threaded this way and that, to and fro, around and about the general area of the Tent City nearby to Elizaveta's personal canvas guest palace. He was on a mission, you see. His quest for bottles had taken him to nigh manic frenzy as he darted about, not particularly caring that he too might be dealing with something along the lines of mild hypothermia. One such example of his rabid determination had him darting up to one of the lesser Bazhoolis (a cousin of some note) and snatching an earthenware vessel from his grasp. 

	[color=firebrick]"For sorry, cousin! I need this, da?"[/color] It was less of a question and more of a sideways method of asking permission for something he had already taken. Sudden curiosity got the better of him as he gave the fired clay decanter a cursory sniff, followed by a frenzied chug. He held the liquid in his mouth for a half second, looking at the man with a goofy yet incredulously questioning stare, as if to ask [i]"Dear God, what did I just drink?"[/i]. He turned his head and very dramatically expectorated the odd fluid from his mouth with loud, sputtering cough, making the air around him perilous with sour-sweet smelling, vaguely pink vapor. [color=firebrick]"Vhat is this, [i]ссать[/i]?"[/color] He began to scrape his tongue with fingernails, overcome by the unexpected suddenness of his imbibing. 

	"Is beet vinegar, Master Alexandrov." 

		[color=firebrick]"Great Bazhooli!"[/color] he reminded. He was only Master Alexandrov in front of outsiders, and then only when not performing. [color=firebrick]"Vhy you have ссать in bottle?"[/color] 
	
	"Beet vinegar..."

		[color=firebrick]"You are drinking this, cousin? Vhyfor you drink ссать?"[/color] 

	"Made from sugar beets, Great Bazhooli. Vas taking to cooks."

		[color=firebrick]"Ve talk later, ссать-drinker. You need rest now. Long, long rest for brain, da? Da. But vater! Need vater now."[/color]

	The lone, vinegar hauling performer reached into a great woolen sack and handed over two more glazed, earthen vessels. He took a tentative step backwards, away from Vladimir and his apparent descent into madness, then quickly scurried off to the cooking pavilion. The good news was, Vladimir now had four decent sized sealed bottles of water and a place he needed to get to. The bad news, he also had a carafe of beet vinegar he had nothing to do with. It was a cumbersome carry, maneuvering five bottles (one of which he didn't need), but luckily he wasn't far away. Stumbling, it occurred to him that he might have had an easier time if he juggled the bottles instead of holding them in his hands and arms. Nevertheless, he moved as best he could back to Elizaveta's great and fluffy Imperial Tent. 
		

	

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[sub][color=c0c0c0]"He sent out His word and healed them, and delivered them from their destruction."[/color][/sub]

[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] Russian Imperial Circus - Tent City (Regent's Park)[/center][hr][hr]

	Inside of Veta's tent, Mary felt a little foolish. Here she was, attempting a Trained skill to heal her new friend, when it appeared that what she needed was to change into clothes that were not soaked with water that chilled her to the bone. She sighed, going as far as to raise her hand to her face. It was pride that led her to this conclusion, pure and simple. Pride in her abilities led her to a basic oversight that might have been dangerous to the Grand Duchess, were someone with momentarily better sense not present. Of all people, [i]Adam[/i] stepped in to correct the situation, reminding her to check the simple things before jumping to Divine abilities. [color=c0c0c0]"The simple wisdom of children. God bless them all."[/color] she mused, and immediately moved to assist the Russian Nun with her efforts. 

	[color=c0c0c0]"At once, Sister."[/color] replied Mary, setting to help Sister Sophia in changing out Elizaveta's wet clothing for dry. [color=c0c0c0]"Do as she instructs please, Adam."[/color] Mary noted with some small amount of satisfaction how seriously the boy took to his duty, holding the line back with a weapon over twice his height. Were he not so serious about it, it might be less comical. That was not the point, though. The child was showing signs of growing to be a decent and strong young man. If Mary could help him do just that, she most certainly would. 

	Mary began to strip Veta of her wet vest and blouse, opting to take care of the remainder as the dressing gown was placed about her. Though she was unconscious, Elizaveta deserved as much modesty and respect as the situation could afford. As the Grand Duchess was taken out of and then returned to a state of dress, the young Apostolic found that she was privy to one side of an interesting discussion taking place just outside of the tent, one which brought a quiet smile to her face. 

	[color=firebrick]"Vhat you mean, [i]"None Shall Pass"[/i]? A? [i]Nuns[/i] tell you? Out of - vhoah there..."[/color] 

	Yes, the big-armed experienced Russian could very easily destroy the child without effort, but he appeared to be a decent man. The pitch and urgency of his voice said that, while he was being respectful, his patience was running dangerously thin. [color=c0c0c0]"Just a moment please, Master Alexandrov."[/color] called Mary, hurriedly seeing to Elizaveta. [color=c0c0c0]"The Grand Duchess is not dressed to receive."[/color]