[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=fdc68a]Ludwig Zimmer[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/2ee3340edf6b72a9eae68523044eca64/tumblr_inline_ni5h8nFbKE1s0wd2z.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, Ferret Handling[/center][hr]
	Little dolls, big dolls, many dolls. All lined up. Where they jumping on the bed? Would one fall down and bump their head. No, they nested, nesting together in a line, one fills the other and back again. All warm and the largest protects the smaller, the smaller protects the tiny, the tiny protects the tinier, until the smallest and most vulnerable is held within and nested within. So many barriers between it and harm. Generations upon generations stood around the youngest to ensure that nothing could harm it until it was the older, until it was stronger, until it could protect the newest to come along. His eyes blinked that rare moment of clarity and Ludwig spoke as from his pocket he picked a watch and a click to open it. Within held a sketch of a young man. [color=fdc68a]"Not to help me. To help Dieter, my brother not my ferret,"[/color] he said as his fingers slowly ran over the hand drawn image that was well worn within the silver beaten covering. [color=fdc68a]"Nothing harms him now he lays surrounded by earth and wood but he was the outer doll once. He needs new dolls now, know I'm stronger and it's okay he is no longer the biggest doll of the family."[/color] The sanity that was half there slipped away as his eyes drifted from face to face, from picture to picture. 

	[i]Tick tock[/i], there was no mouse to run up the clock. Just the ferret which roamed and rummaged through the bag from time to time. Yet he was perched on his shoulder. 

	[i][b]Tick tock, tick tock.[/b][/i] Arms reaching trying to grab the time, to stop it in its place as it spun on the face and yet it never stopped. The time kept marching on even though time was only an illusion, lunch time doubly so. It was a good thing it was not lunch but perhaps it could be dinner time for he was hungry. His stomach was empty. He had beans but beans were not to be eaten, they were to be kissed. Kisses could wait, they had to wait. For what? The Graveolase that was what. 

	[u][i][b]Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock,[/b][/i][/u] he was late. He was late. [color=fdc68a]"I'm late for a very important date,"[/color] he said as his knee buckled and he looked once again like a rag doll about to drop before catching himself on imaginary strings held from the stars above. [color=fdc68a]"Learn Circus later, many questions. I want to know what this Bazhooli is, sounds fascinating. Not as wondrous as the Bella but hardly any are. So dark, cannot wait to see her again. Quiet, still. Very still. Like death."[/color]

	[b][i][u][s]Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.[/s][/u][/i][/b] He closed the watch. It was time to move for he has things to do and to study and to learn and to teach.. Yes. Teach. That was something else. Later, not now. Now show. Time to show. He spun on his heels once, twice, thrice and then he moved towards the large tent that Vlad had mentioned. [color=fdc68a]"Yes, this way. Smells, foods. Come Dieter, we show the greatest which we know and then they will stop saying I am mad. Yes, I will show them joy,"[/color] he said as he clapped his hands together and rubbed them together before entering the main tent and glancing around. Spotting the Graveolase being seated he waved with all the life in him and smiled widely. 

	"Oh shit... The German is back..." a [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2c/98/f9/2c98f97f27cb2693e0689bc72c65c8a8.jpg]woman[/url] said as her lips pursed in her thick Caribbean accent as she took a seat. It was Christine Del'ataunt. The head of the West Indies representation, and Graveolase of such.  

[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=0072bc]Millicent Wyndham[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/289e318abb0e9f04f8e898bc6bdd1b0a/tumblr_inline_o807zrvoRQ1qgrm3t_250.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Ladies Room, Heaton Hall, Heaton Park, Manchester, England
[b]Skills:[/b] Class Knowledge (Peer), Court Ettiquette, House[/center][hr]
	What had happened to her? Where was she now? No, Millicent was not losing her mind as another obviously had so many miles away. It was more of an existential crisis right then. She knew logically exactly what had happened to her body and precisely where she stood at that moment. Yet the larger picture in a more metaphorical sense was a difficult thing for her to grasp. Miss Wyndham had always been daring, out spoken, solid in her presentation of herself to the world. While she had bowed from time to time to the wants of the ton she had never lost what made her what and who she was. To be assured she was rather cynical in nature she was still a caring person who strove for the best in herself and demanded it of others. Yet right then whatever was of that once vain and witty young woman seemed to be literally beaten out of her. It was difficult for her to wrap her own mind around it, feeling as if she was watching someone else taking over her body and her ways as her head turned towards the voice of another as she was spoken to. 

	She was trembling and she could barely nod her head as the woman before her offered to give her a hand. It was the first piece of kindness she had had since she was forced out of London. That may have occurred just the night before, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Her hands, shaking, held out what little make up she carried towards Colette. [color=0072bc]"Please... help..."[/color] she eventually managed to squeak out from her lips as she nearly dropped the small compact in her hand. Was she asking for help with her make up or more? It wasn't clear. What was clear as the tears spilled from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks was that she had been hurt in many ways. The make up was washing off with each tear that fell and the dark blue and greens were showing themselves from beneath the make up more and more. 

	It was apparent from the makeup as well as the clothing that she was trying to hide the damage. Her gloves rose higher on her arms that was fit for the season. The cut of her gown was less revealing. Her hair was let to be more free around her neck than pulled up to show the length of it. The colors she wore were more mute than the seasons latest fashions, even more muted than normal for her. Everything spoke of a woman that was trying to hide in the shadows and not draw attention to herself. To hide the pain and the wounds both on her skin and far below. Yet her eyes couldn't hide the utter desperation that was coursing through her veins right then nor would her body stop trembling as if she had been dropped into an icy lake and left to die. Death at that moment would have been a true release.