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[sub][color=c0c0c0]"The tempest comes out from its chamber, the cold from the driving winds."[/color][/sub]
[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] Russian Imperial Circus - Tent City (Regent's Park)[/center][hr][hr]

	A kind smile greeted Adam when he returned Mary's polearm. He was very thoughtful, and proving to be highly intuitive. She accepted her Audist weapon politely but otherwise stayed back, allowing the people of the Circus to take care of their own. Mary's own abilities (one in particular), might prove beneficial if more mundane efforts were unsuccessful. She had attempted before with little success. It was understandable, Elizaveta was still being chilled to the bone when Mary invoked the skill of [i]Timyne[/i], a thing which was trying at the best of times and requiring an act of divinity at the worst. Unaware of anything else that she could do at that time, she simply stood ready to defend, heal, or offer service to the Grand Duchess. 

	Then Adam did said something strange. With hesitation, he called Mary's attention to Sister Sophia, who was giving divine supplication in her native tongue. The prayers, or variations of them from denomination to denomination, always had intonations of power to Mary. Even though no ethereal gift brought about by Training flowed from her through Sophia's words and she did not understand Russian, it rose and fell with potency; the words of the true and faithful. 

	In hushed voice so as not to interrupt neither the attention paid to Elizaveta nor Sister Sophia's words, Mary responded to her little ward, [color=c0c0c0]"It is a lovely language, is it not? I am afraid Russian is not a language I know... Oh? You mean pray? Yes, I can certainly teach you this."[/color] Mary took a knee next to Adam and continued, [color=c0c0c0]"This is one I sometimes use as a focus when the Lord works a Healing through me... but first, you need to open your mind and heart to God, with trust and humility. Take a breath if you need to; for many it helps to bow your head and place your hands together in front of you."[/color] She demonstrated briefly to the boy a basic supplicant's pose. 

	[color=c0c0c0]"Excellent. Now, place your thoughts on Elizaveta and concentrate on love and warmth. Giving. Hope. Open your heart to the Lord and speak. Match my words. Ready?"[/color] Mary began, speaking quietly but clearly:

	[color=c0c0c0]"May you be wrapped up in God's love,
	Found deep in His everlasting wings,
	Carried and kept, safe and cherished.[/color] 

	Mary paused the prayer purely for instructional purposes, speaking quickly and quietly. [color=c0c0c0]"Speak your intent with feeling; put yourself into it, Adam."[/color] 

	[color=c0c0c0]"May the healing power of Christ
	Breathe across your being now. [i]Amen.[/i][/color] 


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[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/3068ada6-2525-4e47-b1a8-14d98dfb6177.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]

	Vladimir had hope to see immediate change in Veta's condition, with the administrations of two Sisters, and one Trained at that. He had expected more from himself, possibly for the same reason. Perhaps it was too much to ask that, after such an attack that she had to endure she spring awake and wide-eyed, ready to meet the day with smiles and a healthy appetite. His own condition wasn't great, and he had less to deal with. Far less. The others in the tent seemed to have adopted a more "wait and see" tactic. It made sense. Recovering from exposure ordinarily took a bit of time. Perhaps that was exactly what was needed. He just didn't want to to nothing in the meantime. 

	The earthenware vessels of water were going to require a few minutes on the stove to heat up appropriately. Vlad could tend to his own needs in that time. He would help no one as a sick and immobile Great Bazhooli, oh no. That simply would not do at all. With teeth that began to chatter, Vladimir weakly (for him) addressed the persons still in the tent. 

	[color=firebrick]"You vill excuse; I am needing to be varm and dry, too. Veta is good, vill return in minutes. Please excuse."[/color] He did not address anyone in particular, merely extending his words to whomever would hear before pushing himself off of the center pole of the Grand Duchess's tent and staggering out into the daylight. While an impressive village of canvas and wood, it was not exactly a major metropolitan area. Locating his own lodging was a very simple affair of a few meters. He came close to stopping while en route thanks to a warm and drawing cook-fire, but he knew he had to continue. Just a small investment of time otherwise, and he could tend to his Elizaveta from a stronger position. That was motivation enough. 

	Inside of his tent, Vladimir peeled his still-wet clothing from his person and unceremoniously flopped them down onto the ground. There was sufficient cover separating his feet and the actual grass and earth of Regent's Park, and it was a good thing too. He had no desire to have even the appearance of being exposed to the elements. Even in London. Even in the summer. He had to make this fast - he had more important people to tend to than himself. Well, [i]one[/i] more important person than himself. The present incarnation of The Great Bazhooli saw hurriedly pulled himself into simple undergarments and black, loose-fitting pants, over which he donned fashionable and functional high black boots. He buckled on a familiar belt and, upon checking the buckle for ease of draw, revealed it to actually be a brace of push-daggers. Following this he buttoned on a black shirt with close pinstriping, making it an interesting debate as to whether is was indeed black shirt or a grey one from a distance. The leather cuffs on his wrists were changed out for larger, more elaborate ones, lightly adorned with metal studding and wax thread stitches. He threw on one of his near trademarkable high-collared red waistcoats and slipped a filigreed red bandana over his head, followed by his leather banded top hat. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, Vladimir resupplied himself with many, many sharp things. From his boots to his lapels, including all of the ordinary spots a regular guy would keep a knife, Vlad armed up. 

	Briefly, he considered readying his long gun owing to the situation, but thought better of it. He had more important things to attend. Likewise, the more formal attention to his face and hair would have to wait. Tossing his wet clothes into a temporary hamper, Vladimir confidently paced his way back to Elizaveta's tent. The water should be getting up in temperature. In a couple more minutes, he could begin ministering to her needs for warmth, giant tiger and supplicating nuns aside. In preparation, he placed a few more pieces of wood into Veta's tent stove, and checked his bottles. Not just yet. But soon.