[hr][hr][center][h1][color=firebrick][b][i]Vladimir Alexandrov[/i][/b][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/3068ada6-2525-4e47-b1a8-14d98dfb6177.jpg[/img]
[h3][color=firebrick][b][i]"[u]The Great Bazhooli[/u]"[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/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]

	There was a sense of bold pragmatism in the manner that Ringmaster Viktor had his people handle the situation. Moreover, the roustabouts tasked with handling the scene went about their work with an edgy coldness, as if they were accustomed to dealing with grim jobs like this and found it more of an inconvenience than a point of horror. It was a short piece of time until the area looked more of less sanitized, with the exception of a huge cleft in the pavilion corner support beam, courtesy of the magician's saw that got away from him. One could almost feel sorry for the poor fellow as he meekly stepped forward to retrieve his device, even as he pushed up a box to stand upon while working the wide blade out of the wooden support, the occasional drop of vermilion staining his shirt sleeves in the process. Eyes remained on him, silently asking questions that, were spoken aloud, very well would have contained excessive profanity. 

	Vladimir had just finished speaking with the trio of highly placed women, and was quickly returning to his people. They had a dry run to go through before appearing before the Graveolase. It was a dance that they had done numerous times, singly, in duet, and in groups. Second nature, at this point in time. And when properly trained Tatushka singers accompanied them as backup, the dance became as art. Hypnotic, beautiful, deadly art, steeped in the traditions and flavor of the Rusyn people - Gypsy or Cossack, Romanian, Ukrainian, or Russian. It was the application of the Grand Mamushka; a dance involving a great number of the Sem'ya acting in sharp, acrobatic concert, of which they were masters, all. 

	Unfortunately, Vladimir was stopped yet again by Viktor. One of his responsibilities was as the main announcer, and he had a couple of legitimate questions for the Master of the Bazhooli Sem'ya. [b]"Титулы, Великий Бажули! Мне нужно знать титулы двух странных женщин, если я хочу объявить их другим гостям![/b][sub]1[/sub][b]"[/b]

	The performer known internationally as The Great Bazhooli sighed. Not just an ordinary sigh, either, but one that began as a dramatic exhale, grew into an annoyed growl, and terminated as an open-mouthed yell. He [i]really[/i] wanted to get to his family's business as quickly as possible. Sure they had done this many times over, in celebration, in combat, and in practice, but he just needed to get his people warmed up, limber. Shake the pre-entrance ice from their limbs and get them in the proper mindset to go about their duties with skill and optimism. But apparently now right now, no matter how hard he tried. 

        In keeping with his annoyance and the fact that they were discussing British nationals, Vladimir responded in English. [color=firebrick]"Vhy for you do not [i]just ask them[/i]?"[/color] he questioned with a slightly exasperated tone. [color=firebrick]"No no, I vill do."[/color]

        In a fashion befitting the showman that he was, Vladimir flourished his hands in a practiced motion, the end result being that two of his finer knives seemed to appear, as if by magic, within his grasp. He used one such knife to tip the brim of his tall, very impressive hat back, and then began to twirl them through his fingers, approaching Virginia, Elizaveta, and Mary by mere steps, just enough to signify that he waa speaking to them but not so close that they did not have to raise voices. 

        [color=firebrick]"If man, lowly as myselv among three elegant roses of grace, beauty, and standing may interrupt discussion, important as yours is for obvious?"[/color] He gave a half-second of pause purely for the metric of etiquette, [color=firebrick]"Our noble and gallant Ringmaster vishes to know your titles; full titles that he may announce you as you enter. Ve know yours, Grand Duchess, but are less familiar vith Lady Crypt and Scary Catho... Sister-Knight (you get promotion, yes?) Mary. For please? And remember, ve are showpeople. [i]Vith panache.[/i]"[/color]
        

[hider=Translations]
1	=	Titles, Great Bazhooli! I need to know the titles of the two strange women, if I am to herald their entrance to the other guests!
[/hider]




[hr][hr][center][h1][color=c0c0c0][i][b]Sister Mary Ignatia Hale[/b][/i][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/82/54/0d/82540d6136ce1f6f809735b7e793127b--redhead-makeup-molly-quinn.jpg[/img]
[sub][color=c0c0c0]"Dame Commander, Order of St. Sylvester"[/color][/sub]
[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) [/center][hr][hr]

        Mary looked to the odd man who commanded so much respect among his people. Maybe this was just how the Russians operated. Or the Circus. Or maybe it was just the ways of this roving group of peculiar but highly necessary lunatics of which Mary was fast becoming very fond. The Great Bazhooli, as he was known, made a valid request (if a little out of turn). So, Mary waited a second or two for a proper conversational break and responded. [color=c0c0c0]"That is correct, I have received that honor very recently."[/color] 

        Now for the uncertain part. Due to the nature of her work, her title may be different based upon the nature of the role she had to play. The short form was, if she was called upon to be a Venator, she was addressed with the honorific of Dame. If acting as an agent of the Church purely, it was Sister, owing to her simple vows. Mary represented The Vatican in this meeting, which could not be overlooked if she tried. There was likely to be another, more formal representative present however, and she was angling to maintain her position until a decent, honorable, more permanent solution was available by means of title. Her latest one was granted for this reason. The choice was clearer. 

        [color=c0c0c0]"The Interim Arch Graveolase, Dame Commander Mary Ignatia Hale of the Papal Order of St. Sylvester, Resident Knight of St. Etheldreda's Church in London."[/color] 

        It was getting long. People might accuse her of excessive pride soon, though she was marginally certain it would not be anyone from this circus. More of a concern, was the strange Ringmaster writing any of this down? It really was getting long. But he was probably trained for this. 

        Elizaveta had done an excellnt job broadening the topic that Mary had initiated. Indeed the Circus was a safer location because of its people. Maybe not quite as safe as The Vatican, but one had to get there first. It was a long journey. Perhaps James could find something more suited to his character here with these people. She was already considering giving Adam her blessings in this regard. But after speaking with The Baron on this and many other subjects earlier, she reasoned that they might need his blessings, too. 

        [color=c0c0c0]"Your Grace, Lady Crypt, it seems we have much to discuss in a short time. Might I suggest that we find somewhere with more privacy in the meantime?"[/color]