[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 (Regent's Park), Main Tent
[color=firebrick][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Fal'shbort[/i] (Passive), [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i] (Passive), English [/center][hr]

	At first, Vladimir had no idea what the mad German was going on about. He had taken several things on faith that day and the previous, but it was starting to strain his ability to do so. Not faith in a higher power directing their activities to a noble and worthwhile end; it occurred to him that God had better things to do than oversee the meeting of a family enemy and a highly confusing man foreign to both his and London's cultures. His faith in the decisions made by those higher placed than himself within his own home, the Circus, was taking a beating. 

	Elizaveta was the Grand Duchess. Vladimir was next in line for a hereditary Barony, possibly more as time went by. It was his duty to follow the orders of The Grand Duchess, so long as it was not to the direct detriment of his people. That's just how it worked. Even if he did raise her as family since her tender years. And The Baron? How does one refuse one's father, who had been through everything he had also been through, who lived and ate and breathed Circus, Alexandrov, and Bazhooli for longer than even he had? He would certainly know what was best for Vladimir's people. It was just that he was unaccustomed to being overruled as it came to his Sem'ya or left in the dark as to what was going on. And if nothing else, Vladimir was certain that something was going on. He was not a stupid man, if his antics often painted him in the brighter colors of a showman. 

	Whether the canvas falling was Thalken's fault or no, there was a danger present. A good amount of that danger was averted when Ludwig extinguished the heavy cloth that fell atop them all. Cold was preferable, massively preferable to being burned alive. [color=firebrick]"Master Zimmer!"[/color] exclaimed The Great Bazhooli, in all of is awestriking Great Bazhooliness, [color=firebrick]"You have save-ed lives, many lives of family, and protected centerpiece tent! Vere I not to be holding things of sharpness and platter of yummy foodstuffs, I might summon strength of arms to give vith the massive of hugging! But for now, da, [i]for the now[/i], ve must get young vones to safe place."[/color] He indeed knew such a place. His vardo was safe enough for him most days on the road, with the added bonus of it not being the place he stayed when the Tent City was assembled. Vladimir simply did not want to say out loud where he wanted to take them, just in case. 

	In more serious voice, he continued, [color=firebrick]"For please, hand to me little Viscount James. You take the Adam boy, and ve go, da?"[/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]"In God's name let us go on bravely." -Joan of Arc[/color][/sub]
[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Regent's Park (Outer Circle Road)
[color=c0c0c0][b]Skills:[/b][/color] Horseback Riding [/center][hr][hr] 

	The prayer from Elizaveta was a touch unexpected. Perhaps it was lingering prejudice on her part not to expect that others would have piety similar to her own. Most especially the Grand Duchess, owing to the fact that when Mary first met her (and confused her for a lesser member of titled aristocracy) she was in St. Etheldreda's, under the direct care of the Bishop, and was there in part to instruct Mary on the Trained ways of the Russians. She was not Catholic, but she was pious. Mary answered her prayer with a clear [color=c0c0c0]"Amen."[/color] in her serene yet strong voice. She did not care that it was not popular among Catholic teachings. It was an honest supplication to God upon setting out on a long and dangerous journey. [color=c0c0c0]"Christopher Sancte, Defendat."[/color][sub]1[/sub] she returned, invoking the same saint as Elizaveta in Latin. 

	Virginia's insistence that Sister Mary not refer to her as "My Lady" earned her a smile from the young Apostolic. It was true, Mary had the tendency to address others in the most formal manner possible, especially now as she was leaving in a highly secretive manner to address business that involved matters both personal and professional. She was a Knight at heart; a Crusader against the darkness, and she was accompanying two members of the aristocracy on this mission. Now as she thought about it, both of them had asked her to speak to them plainly and without title, a thing that she agreed to so long as they were not in the company of others. With a shrug, Mary supposed that each others' company counted as them being alone, considering they had both made the request. [color=c0c0c0]"Very well, Virginia."[/color] 

	Upon reaching the road running a perimeter of the Park, Mary urged cover over speed, at least until they exited The Regent's Park proper. [color=c0c0c0]"I recommend west, Elizaveta. That route puts trees and a body of water between ourselves and the Circus. Past that we must decide which route to take out of London."[/color] 

[hider=Translations]
1	=	St. Christopher, Protect Us.
[/hider]