[hr][hr][center][h1][color=9e0b0f][b]Российский императорский цирк[/b][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][color=9e0b0f][b](Russian Imperial Circus)[/b][/color][/center]
[center][h3][color=c0c0c0]Sister Mary Ignatia Hale[/color] & [color=firebrick]The Great Bazhooli[/color][/h3][/center]
[center][sub][color=c0c0c0]Страшная католическая девушка[/color] & [color=firebrick]Vladimir Alexandrov[/color][/sub][/center]
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	In Vladimir's excitement to attend to the guests of the Sem'ya, he was overlooking one of his own people. Such a thing could be forgiven readily by many without the gift of Rusyn Sight, or [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i]; unfortunately Vlad was one such individual blessed and cursed with this ability. He knew full well what a sudden vision could entail. However, he didn't seem to notice until the younger man's difficulty until it was drawing to a close. The second he did, the more senior Bazhooli gave out a mighty [color=firebrick]"HA!"[/color] holding his hands out wide and listening intently to everything that Constantin had to say, eyes open wide. It was a little overly dramatic, performing an action for respect and quiet when it was mostly already being given. But that was The Great Bazhooli; nobly dramatic in every situation that did or did not call for it. He made a mental note of what his fellow performer had said, then repeated it aloud in summary. 

	[color=firebrick]"Haze. Lace, boomstick, thistle. Much pain; someone hurting. Da?"[/color] He rattled the words off, attempting to commit to memory by simplification. [color=firebrick]"But vhat does this mean?"[/color] 

	Meanwhile, Mary was trying to say a farewell of some kind to Sister Lazarus. It was ultimately pointless. When she got an idea or course of action in her head, it generally took a Bishop or higher to sway her away from it. She was a formidable old Nun, Sister Lazarus. She would likely outlive them all. Mary shook her head and returned to the conversation fully, just in time to hear Vladimir rattle off his list. [color=c0c0c0]"I cannot claim to know the proper interpretation of your visions,"[/color] she responded humbly, [color=c0c0c0]"but in Scotland, we used those as symbols of marriage."[/color] 

	It was one of Mary's last memories of her native Stirling, a fine gathering featuring those elements on behalf of her brothers. Just like Almack's, it ended in blood. Mary's eventual path to the Vatican started there. It was a chilling thought that another such marriage would be associated with pain. But Mary was no interpreter of visions. She had to admit to herself that her own experience colored her judgement, making the association into something it might not be. 

	Vladimir was intrigued. Not so much as to slow his planning for the festivities for the evening, but enough to make comment. Unfortunately, the comment was directed more at the suddenly absent Sister Lazarus, despite the fact that Vlad was actually moving to help steady Constantin. [color=firebrick]"She has dusting? Vill never understand nuns..."[/color] He placed a hand on the young firewalker's shoulder, clasping firmly to show support. [color=firebrick]"Haze. Lace, broomstick, thistle. Pain. Do not know, is not good. But you rest now, da? Ve must see vhat is, and vhat can be done about it."[/color] He hated it when the visions were unclear. Such things were often worked out in hindsight, long after the chance to affect events for the positive. It was a helpless feeling, sometimes worse than not knowing at all. Maybe others in the Circus with the Gift would detect something, or have greater insight. But these things were often unreliable. More information would have to be gathered, and he didn't know where nor how to start.