[quote=Morose, Sigil, Lady Amalthea][hr][hr][center][b][h1][i][color=a187be]Elizaveta Romanova[/color], [color=c0c0c0]Sister Mary Ignatia Hale[/color], and [color=9999ff]Virginia Crypt[/color][/i][/h1][/b][img]https://s13.postimg.org/n1v4xwkx3/COLLAB.gif[/img][hr][hr][b]Location:[/b] Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
[b]Skills:[/b] Tretiy Glaz (Elizaveta/Passive), English (Elizaveta), Diplomacy (Elizaveta), Crypt Family History (Virginia)[/center][hr]		
	The Grand Duchess was more than happy that both Virginia and Mary were on the same page and ready to move forward in what was turning into a mission of women. Not that Elizaveta had anything against men personally. She had dealt with the Circus most of her life and things within the Circus were very different than the rest of the world. Yet, the prospect of getting out on her own away from everyone that was constantly around her, to do something on her own, with friends who were not of the Circus... There was something very exciting about it and in her heart she was sure God was setting them on this path. Directing them so their paths would cross, that they would find each other, that they would have a goal in mind. Yes, this would be the path less traveled but it would be one she would enjoy. She had faith in her new friends. 

	[color=a187be]"Then let us..."[/color] she began but her voice trailed off. Elizavetas eyes glazed over, as if a frost had formed over them. She froze in place as her lips parted. This looked like what had happened to her before at Almacks but much more intense. Before it had been a slower over taking, a dazed dreamy look in her eyes. This was hard, fast, and as she finally took a breath as she blinked, sharp. [color=a187be]"Something vicked this vay comes, ve must hurry,"[/color] she said as she pressed her hand to her chest and calmed her breath. [color=a187be]"I vill explain as ve make our vay to the Baron,"[/color] she added as she stepped over to the edge of the tent and pushed back the flap so they could start on their way. 

	A Grand Duchess just held a portal open for Mary. Etiquette in this matter was fuzzy. When looked upon from the matter of rank within the British Empire, Mary had no recognized title except for her role as clergy, which carried less weight as the Anglican church held sway. Lady Crypt held higher social standing, obviously, and Elizaveta? The next ruler of an empire stood further above Virginia than Virginia stood above her. Yet here she was, holding a tent flap open for [i]them[/i] to cross through first. If Veta were upholding the general rules of social standing, Mary reasoned that she might be deferring to her present rank as Arch Graveolase... but that was silly. The Elizaveta that Mary met at St. Etheldreda's Church made it a point to tell her that the formalities of rank annoyed her at best. Mary's own strict adherence to formality was something she would have to suppress; Mary even promised that she would at least try to suppress while in her company. Besides, when someone like Veta offers a favor, one does not insult by declining. 

	Mary hefted her halberd and directed a respectful curtsy to Elizaveta, adding, [color=c0c0c0]"Thank you, Your Grace."[/color] Matters of etiquette followed and/or ignored as necessary, she stood to her full height and carried herself as knightly training dictated and strode from the tent, into the literal and metaphorical Circus outside.

	With James' safety secured, Virginia was able to enjoy the shiver of fear and anticipation that went down her spine. The members of the Circus were her family and she had no doubt that Crypts, no matter their surname or accent, would be able to thrive in any crisis. Her father, as far as she was concerned, survived a ship wreck and instructed her to seek out their most ancient ancestor. She was certain that her mother had survived as well - the asylum had not broken Lady Dywell's spirits, so she found it strange to imagine that the roar of the sea could. 

	And while Mary was concerned with etiquette, Virginia had defaulted to the customs held at family gatherings. It did not matter that the British Crypts held an earldom. They were the same as any other Crypt, regardless of titles. Use of British etiquette and customs did not equate respect in Virginia's mind. Respect was more utile and far harder to attain. She nodded her thanks to Veta and passed through the tent, allowing Mary and Elizaveta to pass by her since she herself did not know the way to the Baron. 


	Elizaveta waited for the women to exit her private tent before she let the flap go and it fall back into place. Her curiosity was divided right then because of the noises she had heard coming from outside her tent but once again, she would have to wait. It did not seem like an emergency right then and they had more pressing matters. Much had to be done before the [i]show[/i] and time was drawing near. Walking quickly but smoothly the Grand Duchess made her way through the chaos that was the circus, people making sure to duck out of the way of the three women as they walked. 

	[color=a187be]"Summon the Baron to his tent, it is a most urgent matter,"[/color] Elizaveta said to a passing member of the troupe. She doubted he was in his tent at that time due to the fact that the Graveolase had arrived. Glancing over towards Mary and Virginia as they continued towards the Barons tent she smiled slightly. [color=a187be]"The Baron is far less... dramatic than his son Vlad,"[/color] she informed the women as they reached the tent. 

	[color=c0c0c0]"I agree."[/color] concurred Mary, matching pace with Elizaveta. There was concern on her face stemming from the foreboding words the Grand Duchess has said earlier, but she held her tongue on the issue for the moment. [color=c0c0c0]"I can easily see why people consider The Baron intimidating. He is pragmatic and commands the respect of those around him. I spent a good portion of the day in his company; he has shown me nothing but courtesy in that time."[/color] Mary considered her observations of her time with Vladimir and his father for a few seconds, [color=c0c0c0]"There is a lot of The Baron in his son, but to a degree - I can readily see him hurling knives into his enemies, though I cannot imagine the man as The Great Bazhooli."[/color]

	Virginia could not help but feel slightly disappointed. She quite enjoyed the Great Bazhooli's dramatic manners. He reminded her of the more passionate and enthusiastic members of her family - though now, she realized it was not too strange that she saw that within him. Well, Mary's testimony that the Baron was handy with a knife did somewhat redeem him, just not entirely. There was danger in the air and while Virginia had been left a bit of an emotional mess over the protection of her brother, she now felt that James was as safe as he could ever be. She could now allow the macabre to bring an intoxicated excitement to her blood, as she kept pace with Mary and Elizaveta. [color=9999ff]"Although I am quite fond of those with a flair for the dramatic, I must imagine that the Baron of the Russian Circus will be interesting in his own right,"[/color] Virginia mused.  [color=9999ff]"And a welcome ally in whatever danger you have foreseen, Grand Duchess."[/color]

	Pushing back the tent flap of the Barons, Elizaveta stepped to the side so that the women could enter while they waited for the Baron to return. [color=a187be]"I assure you, the Baron is a character in his ovn right, just as every member of the Circus is. Never a dull moment to be found,"[/color] the Grand Duchess assured Virginia as she waited for her and Mary to enter before following in their footsteps and making her way into the tent. Glancing around she clasped her hands before her and took a position of standing in front of his desk facing the tent opening. 

        It was a matter of seconds after the women arrived at the Baron's tent that a venerable and powerful voice boomed from the general direction of the Grand Pavilion. Reactions from the crowd milling about or moving to specific tasks were immediate, even moreso than occasions that Vladimir had called for action. They parted like mown wheat, providing a clear path for the man to march directly up to his tent and greet the trio of women gathered therein. The Baron himself was richly dressed in ebon black trousers, riding boots, and cavalier vest with charcoal cravat tied in Imperial fashion; intricate and tight. A crimson tailcoat, heavy with black and gold brocade fit smartly over the ensemble, which was accessorized with a pair of Russian sabers and black top hat of very fine quality, but looked to be of local construction. An older man in his sixties, he was nonetheless spry and solid for his age, handsome of face, and with a full head of hair the color of polished silver. 

        He entered his tent, at first a vision of blustering authority. That image of him melted into something slightly more cheerful as he took in the identities of his visitors. He swept off his hat and lightly tossed it onto a pillowed seat nearby, bowed with a flourish that, while not as grandiose as his son's, certainly influenced it heavily. [b]"Grand Duchess,"[/b] he began, speaking English with a greater degree of comfort than others on his Circus, [b]"Dame Commander,"[/b] he continued, eyes piercing and inquisitive, [b]"And Lady Crypt. It is ...[i]particular[/i] honor... to receive you in my humble and temporary home."[/b] The words themselves could have been addressed to all of them simultaneously, but his eyes remained locked on Virginia. With impassioned speech, he addressed the newest visitor to his tent. [b]"New meetings! Yes, new meetings require libation, da?"[/b] The Baron glided effortlessly to a chest near his desk, throwing it open and digging within. [b]"Ve have many vines, good vines vith notes of flower and plum... but you, Lady Crypt...[/b] he raised a bottle labelled with the language of his homeland and a wooden rack of short glasses, pouring as he spoke, [b]"For you, I think, Carpathian Vodka. Ve have much to talk about. But for introduction!"[/b] He handed the first glass to Virginia and raised his own, [b]I am The Baron Dmitri Alexandrov, of line of Vasilyevich, Master of Russian Grand Circus. Velcome to my home."[/b] 

        [b]"Now![/b] he shouted, eager to get to business, [b]"Vhat is thing of great importance?"[/b]


        Virginia did not miss the express attention she received from the Baron as he entered the tent, with a subdued flourish - yet a flourish none the less. It did not surprise her in the slightest that he already recognized her, despite this being Virginia's first meeting with him. Her naturally pale complexion caused her to stand out amongst the peerage. It caught the attention of the Catholic Church, bringing on the inquisition of Dame Mary Hale, in order to ascertain if Virgnia was a member of the undead. In fact, it was a more rare occasion for her to [i]not[/i] be instantly identified just by her appearance. 

        She accepted the glass of vodka from the Baron, noting that the Crypt family's connections to the Russian Circus appeared to only be a mystery to the Crypts. [color=9999ff]"Thank you, Baron Alexandrov,"[/color] Virginia replied. She didn't see the need to introduce herself - everyone in the tent was aware of who she was. She'd much rather learn more of what misfortune Elizaveta had seen. Poison us, strangle us, break our bones - and we will come back for more. It was the Crypt family way. They drew strength from the macabre and the morose, from the mercurial and the dismal. 
[/quote]
[quote=@Sigil][hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=firebrick]Vladimir Alexandrov[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/3068ada6-2525-4e47-b1a8-14d98dfb6177.jpg[/img]
[h2][color=b22222][i]"[u]The Great Bazhooli[/u]"[/i][/color][/h2][hr][b][color=firebrick]Location:[/color][/b] Russian Imperial Circus - Tent City
[b][color=b22222]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]  

The whole encounter with the befuddled German fellow was a series of tiny surprises. Upon peering into his soul, Vlad could tell only that the usual warning signs present in those who would do harm were not to be glimpsed in the very odd man. The use of the skill,  Chteniye Dushi, was not absolutely reliable, even for one as experienced as himself in the ability. It showed what it wanted to show; one opened themselves up to it and trusted that it would reveal what was needed. What surprised him was that this gaunt, scattered man [i]knew the name[/i] of the skill, and could describe the nature of it. He didn't remember his people ever getting down to the old lands of Prussia, nor the dark mystery of the Black Forest. If he spoke the language or had a knowledgeable guide, he might want to visit. The point being: how the man knew of the Rusyn Skills, he could not say. This day was supposed to be the first grand display of those skills outside of the Russian Empire. Vladimir had questions.       

Another surprise was that his invitation was legitimate. Ludwig had passed over a letter, presumably from the Graveolase. Vladimir reversed the grip on one of his blades in the manner of a showman and tucked it away, freeing his hand to better accept the document. He had seen Sister Mary's invitation earlier in the day, and this contained the same lining, writing, and was signed by the now deceased Arch Graveolase. If this was a forgery, it was excellent. 

So he [i]was[/i] invited. Just not by the Circus. Come to think of it, nobody who was of importance this evening was actually invited to be there. Moreover, the people of London and surrounding area, paying visitors, had declined to show up at all. Most performers would consider this a dismal failure. They would lose money this night, but just maybe, they would be recognised by the Graveolase, which after all was the point of this journey. 

Vladimir looked with heavy eyes from the paper to Ludwig, then back to the paper. He handed it back to the strange man, and with hard features (but softened voice) said, [color=firebrick]"Da. Vas Chteniye Dushi. You have invitation, remarkably offputting Teuton. I have qvestions, many qvestions for you, but can vait for the now. Graveolase prepares in Grand Pavilion."[/color] There were notes of annoyance and confusion floating about in his mind, things which he was certain followed this man about like flies to carrion. Far be it for him to deny a person or organization the same access to the Graveolase that he also sought because of this. 

Such was his belief in this ideal that, when the insatiable Mr. Clops made his grand exit, it barely registered with him except for the reaction of the German man hiding behind him. He just sighed, shook his head, and relented, [color=firebrick]"Da. Meeting Graveolase. [i]You[/i], you are in Tent City of Russian Imperial Circus. Is homes for many peoples. Do not enter tents, do not enter vagons vithout permission. For now, eat, drink, laugh, dance... But respectful! Or you vill vitness firsthand vhat it means to be Bazhooli'ed!"[/color] Vladimir replaced the knife in his hand with a grand flourish, spinning it about as he spoke.  [color=firebrick]"Is not pleasant. Not for you. Ve have agreement?"[/color] The Great Bazhooli stood with a look of stern impatience, very curious as to the nature of this man who, though with less-than-ideal entrance, was apparently supposed to be there. That fact alone raised questions.[/quote]
[quote=Rivaan][hr][hr][center][h1][b][color=9e005d]Constantin Kolev[/color][/b][/h1][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/2d2f3a830d107599a44cdc6661d3ef43/tumblr_nd5q10DqfM1tfbtrwo1_500.gif[/img]
[hr][b][color=9e005d]Location:[/color][/b] Russian Imperial Circus - Tent City
[b][color=9e005d]Skills:[/color][/b] Tretiy Glaz(passive), Fal'shbort(passive) [hr][/center]    


	Annoying. Yes that was Constantin's day so far. The fact that Veta survived a near certain death wasn't really a benefit for the day's case since she also got herself into a near death situation. Then he got covered in snot twice... Once by tiger and then by crazy german person who he now had to suppress  the overwhelming urge to punch. He was important guest so he couldn't sadly.[color=9e005d]” Vhy is this day going like this?”[/color] Constantin asked himself as he walked the streets between tents to get himself back to the tent his family was using. He's expression was grim, his clothing dirty and damn it was showing because the shirt for his firedancing costume was white.

	Grumbling he pushed his way into the tent an rubbed his temples, throwing a look at his clothing. His main set of clothing was still wet from the debacle in the morning with the freezing water. They were all nicely placed on ropes in the tent to dry up, but frankly with this London weather and general high air moisture it wasn't working too great. Then there was the tiger ruined shirt... and now this....[color=9e005d]” Did I anger someone up there, no I still live so I probably haven't. Then someone's just playing me for laughs. Maybe it's a vily's revenge... haha” [/color]He sighed, throwing his dirty shirt aside at a pile of other dirty clothing and laid on his bed. 

	Yeah he was running out of clothing. Well not surprising considering they were traveling circus and they didn't exactly have too much space for spare sets of clothing along the rest of the luggage. In the end with some annoyance he rummaged about his father's clothing, finding himself one of his shirts. They wore pretty similar sizes overall so it was fine and this one had a pretty decent tear on the right elbow from being worn for lots of years, but hey at least it was clean.[/quote]
[quote=@Mnkee][center][hr][hr][h1][b][i][color=556b2f]Thalken Talink[/color][/i][/b]
[/h1][img]https://media.giphy.com/media/3ohs4rV8T4ykTKTaiQ/giphy.gif[/img]
[/center][center][i][h3][color=#556b2f]Goatdammit!!!
[/color][/h3][/i][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZgCxXDTqDg][color=#556b2f]- [i]"Kill Everybody" by Skrillex (Goat Remix)
[/i][/color][/url]
[/center][hr][hr][center][b][color=#556b2f]Location:[/color][/b] Devonshire Terrace --> Marylebone Rd.
[b][color=#556b2f]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A
[/center][hr]
Thalken was looking out the carriage window when a streak of white in the dark landscape caught his eye. His brows furrowed slightly. [color=#556b2f]"What the hell--"[/color] he began, before his words were promptly cut off as the carriage suddenly lurched to the side. His eyes widened and his muscles tensed as he fumbled to grab ahold of something to steady himself. The sound of the horses' distressed snorts could barely be heard above the sounds of their hooves scraping and scrambling across the gravel underfoot. A distinct cracking sound could then be heard and the carriage itself began to tilt to the side, sending a jolt of panic through Thalken. Thank God, the carriage didn't end up turning over, but instead it soon settled into its new cockeyed position. 

An involuntary sigh of relief left Thalken's lips as things came to a calm standstill. However, it wasn't lost on him that something or someone had caused [i]his[/i] carriage, of all carriages, to nearly wreck. His gaze darkened to something more akin to the fearless mercenary that he is, or rather was. One hand was still bracing himself against the frame of the carriage, while the other adeptly unsheathed one of his throwing knives from the sheath attached to his left thigh. He twirled the knife in his hand before holding it close to his chest. His hand went for the carriage door, and he slowly, almost soundlessly, opened it slightly and slithered outside. He swiveled the knife in his hand to hold it at the ready, as his dark eyed gaze quickly surveyed his surroundings for the "threat." 

The white blur of a runaway goat in gladiator gear of all things suddenly ran past him as it let a loud, obnoxious MAAAAAA. Before his pride could quell it, a startled yelp left Thalken's lips, and he jumped backwards out of the critter's way. [color=#556b2f]"God dammit!!"[/color] he exclaimed in typical Thalken fashion. As the critter disappeared with a resounding MAAAA back into the night for which it came, his gaze finally took in the damage that had been done to the carriage. [color=#556b2f]"God dammit,"[/color] he grumbled, his arms falling back down to his sides. He glared at the blasted broken wheel then glared out in the direction that the wretched goat had disappeared off to, before stating dejectedly, [color=#556b2f]"I hate goats."[/color] 
[/quote]