[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][h3][color=firebrick][b][i]"[u]The Great Bazhooli[/u]"[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/center][hr][hr][center][color=firebrick][b]Location:[/b][/color] Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) Main Tent to Front Gate
[color=firebrick][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Fal'shbort[/i] (Passive), [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i] (Passive)[/center][hr]

	The concept of forming their own Council was discussed, even optimistically so. But much of the time it seemed like the discussion one might have about winning a city lottery or land drawing - excited talk full of maybes and ifs, but without a lot of substance beyond the light and airy feeling one gets when daydreaming about exciting things that might be. Now that Veta had refused the offer of the Graveolase (but wasn't that Mary now?) and decided that the Russian delegation would strike out on its own, Vladimir had his doubts about how exactly that would be accomplished. Then she mentioned Ludwig. The crazy German apparently held knowledge of many other groups that the Graveolase had refused. This meant two things to Vlad: First, they had a list to go by when searching for other persons of Training, be they nonstandard. Second, they were stuck with the man now. They would not have any of the political clout of the Graveolase, [i]at first[/i]. And they would probably have to prove themselves to whomever they wished to convince to join their budding group. 

	[color=firebrick]"Vell, Circus is not stuck in vone place. Ve move, move to vherever The Baron commands! I vould rather stay and make moneys from peoples of London; Season is upon us, da, and money is in London now. If is not best for Circus, best for our people, then ve move."[/color] A devious grin took hold of Vladimir in that moment, punctuated by a sparkle in his eyes. If a silver lining was to be found, then The Great Bazhooli had just found it. Ever the showman, true delight shone through in his voice as he proclaimed with the confidence attributed to many of his title, going back uncounted generations, [color=firebrick]"This means [i]show[/i]! This means ve must prove to other countries, other peoples that [i]ve[/i] are vorthy of joining vith! This means..."[/color] He paused for dramatic effect, spinning once around slowly with his arms outstretched, [color=firebrick]"...this means Grand Mamushka vill be danced [i]again[/i]! Da! Ve do this! Little more time in raining, foggy London-town, then the road - she calls to us!"[/color] The thought hadn't really occurred to him that they weren't fully prepared to go off the plan, popping elsewhere to go on what amounted to an extended tour. These were details, mere details. It could be rectified with an influx of funding or by acting in the manner of the Circus of old; hunting, scavenging, even a bit of thieving if needed. Women of contractible promiscuity plying their trade instead of just dancing or assisting in shows, even making deals with the local cutpurses for a percentage of the take in return for safe harbor to conditionally work the crowds. Half of their heritage was Gypsy, after all. Some of those stereotypes came with good reason, unless you were Gypsy too. 

	The other part of Veta's request struck him with some alarm. Actually allow the man into the Circus? His family had already promised to bring harm to James and Virginia, and by extension had made enemies of the Circus and the Sem'ya. Yet the Grand Duchess commands his admittance. Another questioning look leapt from Vladimir's face, doubt coloring his feelings about Veta's decision. But it was not his place to question her, not unless it had direct impact upon the Bazhooli Sem'ya. [color=firebrick]"Ov course, Grand Duchess. Vill be as you command."[/color] Vladimir spun his hat back onto his head and gave a swift, agile bow while his hand was still on the brim, then immediately turned and strode back toward the front gate. 

	Along the way, he issued a few stark orders in his Trained tongue of Rusyn, ensuring that outsiders would not have a clue as to his motivations and that those of Training would be among the extra security that moved to occupy the main tent and to flank him as he walked. Trained persons armed irregularly, but armed, all. When he finally made it back to the gate, he addressed Thalken with strong, projected tones, mustering as best of English as fit the situation. [color=firebrick]"Stand, Talink!"[/color] he barked, raising a hand to get the guards marching along with him to stop. He kept his other hand occupied spinning a large knife. It calmed him. [color=firebrick]"By order of Grand Duchess, have been granted audience vith representative."[/color] Vlad hesitated to mention what the man was representing, as he really didn't know, himself. [color=firebrick]"You vill be turning all veapons over to this guard."[/color] he motioned over to one of the guards that occupied the post just a while earlier, [color=firebrick]"May call him, eh... Bob. For now, is Bob. Then you come vith us. Any problem, you will not see outside of Circus. Ever."[/color] 



[hr][hr][center][h1][color=c0c0c0][i][b]Sister Mary Ignatia Hale[/b][/i][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/474x/82/54/0d/82540d6136ce1f6f809735b7e793127b--redhead-makeup-molly-quinn.jpg[/img]
[sub][color=c0c0c0]"He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant – not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life."[/color][/sub]
[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) [/center][hr][hr]

	It was nearing time for Mary and the others to begin their own little adventure, traveling overland to Mary's own country of origin and effecting what might actually amount to a daring rescue. It was much like the stories that she used to read as a child, where the good Knight rides hard and fights the good fight for God and Country, finally overcoming overwhelming odds with his sword, his head, and the grace of the Almighty. Now as an adult, she realized that much more went into the execution of a successful mission, but the child in her still felt a little excited about having this adventure with her friends. It was good. It was righteous. And Mary had her own suspicions about that Rutherford fellow. It was bad enough, his political affiliation over her Clan. But this? Downright evil. 

	Mary smiled a small smile at Virginia's words. Of course she would be available to answer any questions her friend would have for her. It went without saying, though it was polite of her to mention. But she was probably very correct; the present for present matters. Mary only wished that she had time to collect her horse, Cassius, before they departed. With practiced grace, Mary fell into step with Virginia, cradling her halberd in the crook of her arm. [color=c0c0c0]"Of course, Lady Crypt. You may ask anything of me, and I am sure that we will have time enough for discussion later."[/color] 

	The following moments were spent listening to their footfalls as the pair made their way to Elizaveta's tent. Mary registered a small element of surprise as the Grand Duchess joined them, seemingly out of nowhere. She had a bit of gypsy in her, Mary would wager (if she was the wagering type). The fact that she was raised by Circus people might have something to do with that, yet she managed to maintain her aloof sense of royal propriety. Then Veta said something that made Mary's hand reflexively move to her pistol. Talink was here. She had pledged herself to assist in the protection of James Crypt, even though The Baron had likewise promised the safety of the Circus, and indeed that he would be trained as one of the Bazhooli Sem'ya. Nonetheless, Mary felt a tiny calling in the back of her mind, pulling her back to the main tent to confront the villain and complete the action she began the previous evening when she drew her large bore firearm on the man. As far as she was concerned, his presence was a complication they did not need at best, and the preceding action to an attack at worst. It would be better to stitch this tiny problem before it became less surmountable.  

	That thought process was halted directly in its tracks by Veta's next words. [color=c0c0c0]"Master ...Zimmer?"[/color] she inquired, the touch of serenity that made Mary stand out among her peers faltering, replaced in areas with something akin to mirth or satisfaction. She still had her reservations, but as long as the Bazhoolis had their people on it as well, Mary could continue with their plan without regret. She quickly reassembled her seraphic demeanor, pleasantly nodded to Elizaveta, and entered Her Grace's tent without delay. She was even getting used to the presence of her great white tiger, Myshka, who appeared overjoyed to join them.