[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=0072bc]Millicent Wyndham[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/96429515c1cb29b0a9c8df776bd35db9/tumblr_inline_o7zndnuPku1qgrm3t_250.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Dining Hall, Heaton Hall, Heaton Park, Manchester, England
[b]Skills:[/b] Class Knowledge (Peer), Court Etiquette, House[/center][hr]
	Lord Egerton nodded slightly towards Colette and smiled. "I hope he is faring well," he said in passing as he lead her to the end of the table and to the seat to the left of his at the head of the table. Rutherford moved behind him and Millicent stepped carefully to keep up as Lord Rutherford took the seat to the right of Thomas and placed Millicent to the left of himself. Both men made sure to pull out chairs for the women on their arms and push them in as they sat down. Millicent gave a thin lipped nod and a quiet thank you to Rutherford for his assistance but it seemed that she was looking a bit more pale than she had earlier. She had looked rather pale all evening but it was lending a bit more to the flushness of her features even with the make up. 

	Once Thomas seated himself the rest of the guests made her to sit finally. There was a whirl wind of servants moving in now as they brought in bowls of Le Potage Printanier and set them down before each of the guests. It was a common thing to serve a "spring time" soup as the first course of the meal and well the French were the go to when it came to fine dining. Millicent looked down at the Green Pea Soup before her and breathed in the scent. There was a hint of mint coming from the bowl which was an interesting addition but one she was not going to complain about, especially in this heat. The fact they were serving it chilled as well was a nice change. This heat was murder. 

	Looking over towards Colette, Millicent picked up her spoon and tried to start what would be of normal conversation right then. [color=0072bc]"Lady Fontaine, how was your journey here from France? Were the waters calm for your travels?"[/color] she asked as the two gentlemen with them started to joke about some of the other peers stationed further down the table. It was nothing harsh, all in good fun as they spoke about one being dehorsed during the last fox hunt. Though Millicent shifted slightly in her seat as Rutherfords hand found its way to her knee under the table and hidden from the eyes of the others sitting there. 

[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=a187be]Elizaveta Romanova[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m5gplyIpm81rpswil.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Her Private Tent, Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England
[b]Skills:[/b] English, Diplomacy[/center][hr]
	Elizaveta turned the key and unlocked the trunk that was near one of the "walls" of the tent. Opening it up she listened to Mary speak and there was a small bit of relief in her mind. She had no doubt that Mary could ride, the woman arrived on horse back, but riding and [i]riding[/i] were two different things and one needed to be skilled for what lay before them. As she listened she pulled out several burlap wrapped bundles. They did not look as if they were anything of royalty and there was good reasoning for that, they weren't. They were of a much more practical nature. 

	[color=a187be]"I believe until ve have set the Circus far behind us, ve vill need to dress as if ve are, hov do you say, of common birth?"[/color] she said as she turned and pulled the butchers twin which held one of the packages closed. Pushing aside the burlap it was revealed there was a simple looking brown shirt, darker green leggings, riding boots, riding cloak, and a few other odds and ends that would go with such attire. [color=a187be]"The less ve stand out the better I vould think. This is one time it vould be best not to draw attention to ourselves."[/color]

	Picking up two more packages she handed one over to Mary and set one next to Virginia. (So she could finish her going over of the paper work and signing it before anything else.) The clothing while plain wouldn't get the attention of anyone in the circus, it was embellished enough to be seen as something perhaps one would wear around the circus for daily chores or the like. The hardest part to start this mission of theirs vould to be getting out of the circus vithout being seen. [color=a187be]"Feel free to change behind the screen if you are more comfortable,"[/color] Elizaveta said to Mary with a smile. The clothes were modest enough so she wasn't too worried about that, but changing in front of strangers might have been a bit much for the nun. Sister Sophia never even adjusted her attire in public. 

[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=fdc68a]Ludwig Zimmer[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/bafe4c13feabe5bacbec42e6df398537/tumblr_inline_ni5h1koBRY1s0wd2z.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Food Table, Main Tent, 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 waves, crashing in and rolling over the sands bring in the new and wash away the old. Such were things, such was life, such was death, such were the people within the tent as more started to come in. It was time to party, it was time to be glad, not mad. No never mad. It was wondrous, it was wonderful, it was a wonderland. Smile to each, in the dark, in the light. It was a story, writing itself. They had fallen into the hole and why would they leave. Yes, fall. More of you fall. TO the chairs, to the tables, to the drink and the foods. Drink Me. Eat Me. Tea and cakes, vodka and meats. Jump, a new chair, a new table, move about. Jabber, jabber, Walk and jabber, jabberwalk. 

	Somewhere south of hell, north of heaven, east of the sands, and west of the seas. In the center, in the center ring. New faces, faces he didn't know. Faces that didn't know him. Won't you come home. Come home. Home to the world where there is no such thing as time. No such thing as... A name, what was in a name? His name. Oh him! Words to him! 

	Spinning and dipping, drumming his fingers to his journal that he pressed to his chest. Head whipping and tripping over its bones, looking at Vlad and grinning. A new face. A face new than his. A step, was it a stumble or a tumble. A fall. No just a buckle as his eyes, through his glasses, went to the new man brought by the glad man. Not a mad man. Old man was a glad man. New man looked like a mad man. 

	[color=fdc68a]"Oh don't be so mad. Careful to be mad for if you are mad, if you are not they will call you mad. They call me mad. I am anything but mad, except when they call me mad. Even then no mad. Just glad and frustrated. Funny, weaving, like threads in a tapestry. Woven, hoven, behooved. Thalken? Thalk? Talk! Mr. Talk. Talk, come, say hello. Bites I do not. Dieter might if he doesn't like you. My ferret, not my brother. My brother never bit, well once he did. I still may have the scar,"[/color] Ludwig rambled off as he came closer and closer to Thalkin, his head and and body bobbing close and back, close again. His journal being shoved into his bag as he grabbed his shirt and lifted it slightly and started examining his belly. [color=fdc68a]"Hrm, no mark, no more. Still feel it from tie to time. In the night, at the darkest, when it is silent. no silence, too silent, call you mad they will, come. say hello. Talk Mr. Talk,"[/color] he added with a grin and then went suddenly silent as he stared at Thalken, his eyes widening as if he was expecting the man to suddenly sprout wings.