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

        There was a decent amount of hope that Constantin would be able to discern the meaning of the latest Tretiy Glaz image by means of the general knowledge possessed by just about every socially astute Englishman. The problem was, Vlad was most assuredly [i]not[/i] a socially astute Englishman. Oh, Vladimir Alexandrov was a very social man, no doubt. And astute? You might as well give him an advanced degree in the Astutely Sciences. But the lynchpin that threw it all together was [i]English[/i]. While he spoke the language passably, neither he nor his associates, not a one, knew anything about this country that was useful to them at present. But they had a location to travel toward. Gretna Green, just over the border in Scotland.

        Vlad had caught sight of his father, The Baron Alexandrov, overseeing the breakdown of his personal tent not terribly far from Vladimir's own. It was an impressive temporary structure, used for business and entertaining guests as much as it was an opulent place to hang one's knives. He was just about to call out for the elder Alexandrov when [i]someone[/i] inconveniently reappeared. Vladimir attempted to summarize the situation quickly, then hop back on task. [color=firebrick]"Friend Ludvig!"[/color] he called aloud, speaking as if he was an old acquaintance that he hadn't seen in years. [color=firebrick]"There you are being, Ludvig! Of course, is vith happy heart I am seeing you. [i]You[/i]! Ve are going to the Gretna Greens, in Land of Scots, da? Da. Almost time for going."[/color] 

        [color=firebrick]"Vorry not about tent! Vell, vorry [i]little[/i]. Tent is packed avay. I have vardo, but vill not be room for all. Ve must find places for you and for little Adam. Crypt boy vill stay vith me. Maybe can find cart vith roof, put ...гамак... eh, [i]hammocks[/i]! Da, hammocks up - just for now."[/color] He nodded his head vigorously, then intoned with seriousness, [color=firebrick]"Trunk in baggage cart now."[/color] He pointed to a nearby load-bearing cart, probably originality built for merchants or theor ilk. [color=firebrick]"Take vith only what is needed, only vhat can travel vith. Fight vith. Okay? Okay."[/color]

        Located The Baron, but not the Viktor. On we go. 


[hr][hr][center][h1][color=c0c0c0][i][b]Sister Mary Ignatia Hale[/b][/i][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][img]http://image.phimmoi.net/profile/356/medium.jpg[/img]
[sub][color=c0c0c0]"Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit." -Isaiah 17:9[/color][/sub]
[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] Nottingham
[color=c0c0c0][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

        Mary noted the stirring of Elizaveta, but did not respond other than a quiet look in her direction. They had not been in their private room for very long, in Mary's reckoning, but the plan was not to linger in any one place for any substantial length of time. After all, this [i]was[/i] a chase. Such things would be counterproductive. 


        Rather the odd question to Mary, concerning the status of Virginia. Not odd so much because was inappropriate, seeing as it was a highly valid question, just that it was about a skill set that was foreign to her personal experience. Mary supposed that it was even more foreign to the Russian noblewoman, and seeing as Mary and Virginia knew one another prior to the lazt gew days' events, it stood to reason that she might have some grasp on the Lady Crypt's abilities. [color=c0c0c0]"I could be wrong, Elizaveta, but I believe her spirit is elsewhere. Rousing her now might prove fruitless."[/color] 

        She stood fully and slid her shortsword back into its sheath next to its twin, though kept out her rosary. It swung back and forth from her hand, occasionally catching a shimmer of light as Mary looked down upon her friend expectantly, hoping her journey back to her body was swift and otherwise uneventful.