[hr][hr][center][img]http://fontmeme.com/permalink/170105/6f250f0a6ea652257bed529aa7c3eef0.png[/img][/center] [center][img]https://media.giphy.com/media/3o72FiLw8OopRFe5tC/giphy.gif[/img][/center] [center][b][color=556B2F]Location:[/color][/b] Talink Estate (Inside) [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171207/3eb7e6ff78456e4d6292e4880b89eb24.png[/img] [hr][hr][/center] And just like that everything seemed to be restored to its normal state. The eerie silence that had once pervaded the Talink Manor was instantaneously replaced with the sounds of normalcy. Servants were rushing around the house to finish up and settle down for the evening. The house dully creaked as it shifted with the dropping temperature outside. It was a positive change of atmosphere, and yet Thalken still felt on edge. Soulless didn't just pop in for a little chat and then promptly leave. No, they had more purpose than that. They always left death and destruction in their wake. Become their target, and you become their prey. It seems that this particular Soulless, whatever type it was, had its ghastly sights set on the Talinks. Thalken squared his shoulders and vigilantly paced the hallways and rooms. This creature wouldn't leave this residence alive if he had any say over it. Not that he was trained to deal with this particular creature, but oh, whatever, he would improvise. As he walked, or rather prowled, around the manor, servants gave him a wide berth as they passed. That was the customary practice in this household, brought on by his father's violent tendencies. It showed the desperation of the less fortunate that anyone would dare wish to work for a family of bloodthirsty mercenaries. Unfortunately, in this day in age, people had to take what work they could get. Meanwhile, outside things seemed to be calming down to a point. Most in the area have long since closed up house and fled London. It was ironic really that some of the same people who had fled [I]to[/I] London for its so-called safety were now tucking tail and running [I]away[/I] from London at the first sign of danger. Did they really think that the world would be any safer outside these walls? Even the constables were on edge, as they had increased patrols, armed themselves, and made certain not to walk alone. A patrol was passing by the Talink Manor roughly every twenty minutes, which wasn't too unrealistic considering recent events. What else did the night have in store? Only time would tell. [hr][hr] [hr][hr][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171201/822b51ffd7724cc23391ac4b9f735a53.png[/img][/center] [center][img]https://media.giphy.com/media/3ohs81GEPtgwNXixHi/giphy.gif[/img][/center] [center][b][color=8A2BE2]Location:[/color][/b] Russian Imperial Circus Tent City [b][color=8A2BE2]Passive Skills:[/color][/b] [u]Fal'shbort[/u] - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian! [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171208/9a51f24fb956f7c1bbceccaec16c3edd.png[/img] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171208/bb10ac9f494021666374293223378248.png[/img] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171208/6d4836f55adc03e18a0382d6df823660.png[/img] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171208/87f36ea723546a855abad49a7f158832.png[/img] [hr][hr][/center] The coins on Alexandra's vest jingled as she half walked half hopped out of her family's tent, pulling on a riding boot as she went. The Great Bazhooli's impassioned words rang through her head, sending her into frenzied excitement. Singing! Drinking! Food! Dancing and performing! A celebration to beat all celebrations! The man spoke her language. Well, minus the sarcasm. That was her territory, and considering all the madness the day had held, she had plenty of juicy material to work with. Perhaps there was a twisted quality to the notion of making light of the near tragedy that had befallen the Tent City of the Russian Imperial Circus. Truthfully speaking, she took no pleasure from people's pain and suffering. No, sarcasm was just the only way she knew how to process it all. Focusing on her next quip kept the tears at bay and the gravity of reality from crushing her. It was how she got through the years following her parents' murder. If you could make light of a dark situation, you could handle anything, right? Probably not. She weaved between various tents and fellow circus folk. Everything was bustling with life, and she absolutely loved it. She had left her tent with the intent of getting her Brivaldi horse Balaur all gussied up and putting in some time for practice, but she found herself instead following the scents of cooking food. What could she say, her nose had a mind of its own, and she had a weakness for anything remotely tasty. She ducked into one of the vendor's booths and snatched some freshly cooked meat on a stick. She didn't really know what kind of meat it was, but she also honestly didn't care. Food was food, and she liked food. She quickly fled the scene of the crime as one of the cooks caught sight of her and chased her out. [color=8A2BE2]"You vould go out of business if it vere not for me!"[/color] she called out, throwing a cheeky grin over her shoulder. She nibbled on the meat, letting out a groan of satisfaction as the flavor exploded over her taste buds. She ate while she walked through the Tent City, now heading for the makeshift stables. Nearby some musicians practiced, the sound of their music filling the air around her. She unabashedly swayed her hips to the beat all the while with her meat on a stick in hand. She was certainly a sight to behold, and she couldn't careless. She let out an almost girlish chuckle as she gave one last sway of her hips before hurriedly continuing past them.