[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 -> Just Outside of the Main Tent
[color=firebrick][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Fal'shbort[/i] (Passive), [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i] (Passive), English [/center][hr]

	While Vladimir had no idea what Ludwig was saying, he was at least glad that the possibly rabid man was going along with his plan to exit the tent as quickly and safely as possible. His one free hand, now unburdened by anything sharp, grasped the forearm of the young Viscount Wenwynith. [color=firebrick]"Is good, little James. Ve go to safer place, have the foodstuffs now. Da? Da."[/color] Vladimir nodded his head vigorously, helping the lad from underneath the table. He continued with a descriptive of the alleged foodstuffs, directing his words to both of the boys, Crypt and orphan alike. [color=firebrick]"Pies stuffed vith meat (not sure vhat meat, but [i]is[/i] meat, promise! Also [i]колбаса[/i]... eh, sausages! And fried beet on stick. You vill like fried beet on stick. Is good for you - help make strong bones! Come, ve go now. Almost out."[/color] 

	For all of his rambling about forcemeat and fried root vegetables, Vlad was doing a presentable job painting a mental picture. Not one of a bountiful spread of Russian foods, both rural and street, but that of a marginally entertaining uncle type who kept the boys fixated on the mildly out-of-place rambling, the overall idea being to give them something else to process until after they had exited the presently damaged Main Tent. They were not of the Circus, and could not assist in their endeavors without getting in the way. The same went for the German fellow, Ludwig. Not to mention that a representative from a family who had threatened harm upon the child nobleman was within spitting distance. Vlad needed to secure them before anything else. 

	After a bit of pushing and other physical negotiation with the cold, heavy cloth, Vlad had led James back to the point where he had initially emerged from the canvas. The popped seam stood as a signpost to the path which he had taken earlier, which gave him a mental nudge of sorts. Had he forgotten something, though he could not remember quite what it was. It was a real head-scratcher. 

	[color=firebrick]"Aha!"[/color] he said aloud. He realized that he could not go through his generally exaggerated physical antics when puzzling something out, generally involving cocking his head to the side and whisking off his top hat, putting hand to his forehead, playacting an emotion of confusion that might translate well to an audience. It was the performer in him. Couldn't be helped. But he could not do his practiced motions of emotional display for two pressing reasons: His hands were full, and he was missing his hat! This would not do. He must have lost it when the canvas came down, and he was standing right under that popped seam when it happened. 

	Vladimir quickly handed off the platter of goodies to James and crouched to the floor, feeling about the ground beneath with both hands until his face shifted into a visage of satisfaction. He rose, popped his very impressive top at back upon his head, and gave a pleased grunt. He accepted the platter back from his extremely distant relative and led him the rest of the way out of the tent, finally. The nighttime air of a British summer pushed past them, promising rain sooner or later. Hopefully it would be later. Vlad wanted to get some good celebration time in before long. He noted that somehow, Ludwig and Adam had beaten them outside. He was curious as to how, but then it struck him: It must have been when he was getting his hat back. Regardless, he looked over the three of them; Adam, James, and Ludwig. They seemed none the worse for wear. 

	[color=firebrick]"Personal vardo is this vay, at Tent of Great Bazhooli! (ahem) My tent. Is vagon, place to sleep vhile on road. Hard vood. Doors lock. Don't drink all of vodka."[/color] He gave a comical sneer at Adam, as if to jokingly accuse the child of being the type to drink up one's liquor. Vlad then gave a hearty laugh and waved them on to elsewhere in the camp. He had to hurry and get them set up; it would take many people to assist with the damaged tent quickly. And then there was the subject of Thalken. 


[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]

	Jericho, of course. The best path out of London was, of course, the only path. There might have very well been other paths, more secretive ones, be they over or under the Wall, though Mary prayed that there were not. That being barred, she had hoped that the ways were known only to the righteous. These were quite possibly things of folly, maybe naivety, but it was an innocent thought about a purely hypothetical idea; one that had no bearing upon their present situation. They had to go through Jericho to exit London. Mary's concern was with what route they should take after they left. 

	Mary noticed Virginia's whispering, following the perspective deity centered supplications of both herself and Elizaveta. She said nothing, but glanced back and gave her a warm smile. Mary never considered that Virginia was Catholic, having never seen her near St. Etheldreda's for anything related to prayer or tithing, and from the lack of discussion on the topic from other sources, Mary had simply assumed that she was not a churchgoer, period. While the young Apostolic did not understand a word that Virginia said, she was merely pleased that there was a belief in the hereafter within the Lady Crypt's philosophy. She would have to bring it up later if she remembered, perhaps when they found their first resting spot in their journey. 

	But to their journey: The clearest option for overland travel was the Great North Road. It ran from London to Edinburgh, spanning from lower England to the heart of Scotland. It was fast, well-traveled, and maintained as well as any road in Great Britain. But it did not run through Gretna Green. It would take them north quickly but there would have to be a switchover to take them west. There were other paths for that, speedy and direct, though a single downed bridge or hard storm could delay them irreparably. This was a discussion for when they left London. Now, it was the sure canter of a strong, reliable stallion headed south through the mostly empty streets of the Capitol of the British Empire. They had to get a respectable head start on the Circus.