[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=fdc68a]Ludwig Zimmer[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/5e51ace85ce60f730b0ad9e359f4a02f/tumblr_inline_ni5hbj4mv31s0wd2z.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth
[b]Skills:[/b] English, Observation, Mental Stamina, Unacknowledged Soulless/Countries[/center][hr]
	The Russian seemed to be looking at him, very closely. Studying him. Oh yes, he was studying him. Well as one studious man to another he had to allow the study. I mean when was the last time he allowed anyone to study him? When was the last time someone wanted to study him? Probably never, well outside of Ulrich but that was a different story entirely. Ludwig was determined to comply and let the man look into the depths of his soul. He knew of this technique. It was most fascinating. At least he hoped it was a skill and the man didn't just enjoy the company of younger men. While he would have been flatter but even if he had swung in that particular direction Vlad was obviously too manly for his tastes. Did he have a taste? He hadn't really thought about it but now that he was he didn't think he had a taste. Oh butterscotch would be so tasty right then. But this was England, so he would probably be stuck with crumpets and tea. 

	There could be no crumpets and tea though, they had work to do. Or so he assumed a Circus had work to he. He, himself, had work to do. He was supposed to be seeing the Graveolase. Yet, something was more pressing right then. He was being studied and he must comply. So he did. His eye widened as far as they could, lids locking tight against his skull, brows raising dramatically and high. He lips remained closed but one could tell his jaw was ever elongating to try to give the most taunt of psychotic expressions as his nostrils flared. He wasn't trying to look crazy, he was just trying to have his eyes open wide enough to be studied. Yet standing here he found he could just catch the blurred tip of his nose as his glasses slipped down his face and his eyes crossed as they walked slowly down to the little button at the end of his nasal vessel. He still still though, he as being studied. 

	It was just as Vlad finally spoke that he let out the breath he was holding and quickly pushed his glasses back up his nose and scrunched his face up as tightly as he as stretched it. [color=fdc68a]"Oh thank heavens. A moment longer and I would have had a new pair to be needed to be constructed. I am not sure of the glassmen in this area, I wouldn't want anyone that hadn't had their minds cleared Cobblewinchester Muffins examining my eyes that closely again. Splattered brains is a right pain to get out of parchment..."[/color] he said as he flipped open his journal and pointed to a spot on one of the pages. The page listed out various skill names and the area from which they had come. It was a listing of the Irish skills. 

	[color=fdc68a]"That was the Chteniye Dushi?"[/color] he asked as he began to chew on side of his quill. [color=fdc68a]"I hope I held still long enough, did I pass? I hope I did. You aren't... what was it? Bazhooling me? Is that a new technique? I haven't heard of that one but I'd like to see it. Oh yes! I would but can you show me later? I'm in a hurry,"[/color] he said as he held the quill between his teeth and spoke. It made the speech a little wetter than normal but he was managing his English right properly in his mind. Flipping a couple of pages in his journal he found an envelope and shoved it towards Vlad. [color=fdc68a]"See, here, the Graveolase finally responded. They promised to see me when they met with the Russians. I'm the first in a century they've agreed to see so I can't be late for this very important date."[/color] 

	Ludwig handed over the opened envelope proudly. It was recognizable with the foiled lining and the crest of the council on it. Within was a letter from the now deceased Arch Graveolase. Buckingham wrote that he was looking forward to meeting the head of the German skills finally and he would speak to him when he met with another of the New Aged that were presenting, Russia. [color=fdc68a]"They are here right? At least that is what they told me. I can meet them right?"[/color] Ludwig asked as his bottom lip rolled in and he bit it nervously, half crossing his leg and acting as if he had been holding going to the bathroom far too long. This man was of a skill set no one had heard of? And he was their representative? And he had notes on others? Even knew of the Russians? 

	What madness was this? This wasn't Sparta Or was it? One might think so as from the tent a goat burst through, wearing a red cape and a bronze galea with a face mask and a crest. He came baaaaing out of the tent and tore down the center of the Circus towards the entrance/exit. "[sub]1[/sub]Мистер Клопс вернётся сюда!" a man yelled as he rushed after him. The animal was not listening as his cloak billowed valiantly behind him. 

	[color=fdc68a]"GOSTINLIBER!!!!!!!!"[/color] Ludwig exclaimed with such excitement as he jumped out of the way and half ducked behind Vlad. [color=fdc68a]"I didn't know they roamed this far west..."[/color] he quipped as his fingers curled against the mans arm and the goat bore out of Regents Park like white lightning. Where he was headed was anyones guess and the man that had been chasing him stopped near the exit, throwing his hands up. This wasn't the first time that animal had run off, he would return, when he wanted vodka. 

[hider=My Hider]
1 - Mr. Clops get back here!
[/hider]
	 
[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=0072bc]Millicent Wyndham[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://67.media.tumblr.com/d649008c3bce682c4b7a5ed4c5f0c875/tumblr_o3bzksgtgH1qijnxzo2_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Formal Gardens, Heaton Hall, Heaton Park, Manchester, England
[b]Skills:[/b] N/A[/center][hr]
	Looking down at the riticule in her hand, she pulled at a loose string. Millicent was trying to push out of her mind everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. It was too much for the strongest mind to look back on and right then she felt her sanity slipping away. Or perhaps it was locking itself away for its own safety. For her own. Hiding her face, feeling as if she had fallen from grace. Her entire life she was afraid try to do more than she had. Always trying to remain in good standing for the sake of her name, for her father reputation. Yes, she as a blue stocking. Had been out spoken, educated, vocal. Yet even to some that could be over looked. Defiled on the other hand was something that even the purest of women could hardly ever recover from. Even if it was proven what did it matter? The damage was done. Tainted good would never be sought after. 

	Her greatest fear was coming true. To wed without affection. Yet, it was all that was left for her. Wasn't it? Whom could hold affection for a woman such as her now? Even if she were to marry and be widowed. (If only such a thing were possible.) No one would dare come near her again if the slightest hint came through that she was anything but pure before the exchanging of the rings. Yet some women had managed to get around it but then it was consensual and they married. What a conundrum. To marry and act as if she wanted it, wanted him, and pray for his death. Or to never wed, and forever be alone? At this point, which was truly the worse of her options? She could not fathom. It was best to put it out of her mind. 

	Finding her tongue dry she looked around and wished for something to drink. Champagne, something to numb the pain inside and out, would have been welcome. It was about then that Rutherford and their host returned to her side. There were a few words exchanged between the two before Rutherford sat down and whispered against Millicents ear. It made her skin crawl but she nodded nonetheless. The two walked away from her and back towards the main area of the house. 

	Millicent let out a breath and looked around the formal garden. It was an interesting place to be. Not many homes had such large indoor green houses such as this one but it was beautiful. It was warm in there though, much warmer than outside where others might be. It was probably why there were so few in the Formal Garden. Summer was hot and damp enough as it was in England. English and summers and all. In the Formal Garden it was even more so. Sighing she rose from her place. She needed to freshen up, for if she remained in there much longer the makeup that was covering her bruises would melt away. Her hair she did not even bother to worry about. It was unruly at the best of times. Humidity made it impossible. 

	Grasping her clutch she moved from the Formal Garden and into the main hallway that connected it, seeking out a powder room and hoping that there were not too many from the ton within it gossiping. She did not wish to see faces she knew and have to explain why she was there, with whom she was there with, why she didn't have an escort, and so forth. It was near the Salon that she finally found the door she was seeking and she stepped inside. 

	Large chairs were covered in thick padding and fabric for women to relax on. It seemed more of a vanity room than anything else and in a sense it was. Yet it was empty, with glasses of champagne laid out, trays of sweets, perfumes, make ups, and more. The only one there was a single maid who stood off to the side, there to aid women with their clothing or other such necessities should they need it. Grasping a flute she downed the champagne quickly and then another before taking a third and sitting down for a moment to catch her thoughts and to enjoy the simple swirling tingles rushing through her. Millicent was never one to drink so it didn't take much for it to go to her head slightly. It was a welcome change to everything else coursing through her right then.