Member
Sigil
Dion
Strang3F0xLady
Romero
canaryrose
Nallore
Warrior in the Shadows
Kuro
Veilsight
Ludwig Zimmer
Location: Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth
Skills: English, Observation, Mental Stamina, Unacknowledged Soulless/Countries
Skills: English, Observation, Mental Stamina, Unacknowledged Soulless/Countries
Veasel? What was a veaesal? Mouth agape the thoughts rushed through his mind, a musical melody dancing about like Oom Pa Pa and Polka. Bushes, and monkeys, fun, popping. Oh dash dash dash around like he was a Maypole and they were the monkeys. It was all in fun. Popping Des Veasel! Jumping that bush. Banana bush, monkeys just loved bananas. No wait, that was trees. Bushes, weasels... Popping... His mouth fell agape as he pondered just what monkeys and weasels were doing rushing around a bush. There was a light grumble in his tummy and his eyes blinked as he looked back at the one who had brought up the veasels in the first place. He was spouting off something but it wasn't registering with Ludwig with then. What did however was little sugarplums dancing through his mind. No, they weren't sugar plums, it was mulberries.
Mulberries, oh those sounded so good right then. Then another grumble came from his mid section. What was causing that rumble in his tummy. Oh the worms of silk could be causing it, they would want the mulberries. Then they would spin their silk and wrap the world around him, soft and warm, smooth and slick. Oh yes, brightly colored. The rainbow gleaming from above he could slide down as his arms went into the air and then the batting of butterflies wings. Butterfly, butter-fly. Another rumble. Oh yes, food. Mulberries... Turned into a sweet jam, smothered on some thick bread with a bit of butter. That Irish stuff. Not the French. Yuck the French. Fuck the Yench. Into the trenches down into the depth of the muck and mud, dotting around and staining our shirts. Staining with gay magenta polka dots. No, mud wasn't magenta.
Another grumble tore through his mind as his face squeezed up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Mulberries, yum. Weasels, not so much. Weasels.. Veasels... Looking over towards Vlad, "Oh I can see where you are confused. Dieter not weasel, he's a ferret. A Russian should know that." Reaching into his bag he looked over towards Constantin and grinned a bit, thin lips stretching oddly over his teeth. He was trying to smile but it was going horribly wrong. Were it centuries in the future one might think he was related to to one known as Sheldon Cooper. "The pen is mightier than the sword!" he exclaimed triumphantly as he drew a quill from his bag and held it aloft in the air as if he had just drew Excalibur from the stone. Oh mighty and majestic was he there, the wind blowing slightly around and ruffling the frayed ends of his coat.
"Granted, Lancelot was never the brightest. Merlin on the other hand, sorcerers and their apprentices were much more entertaining and wise." He was reaching into his bag as he spoke with his other hand, drawing a leather bound journal from within it and it flapping open in his palm as he looked back over towards Vlad. "Bazquenzeled? Bahooldumed?" he began. He was pondering just what the man had said, now that it was finally registering in his mind. "Bamboozeled?" He was rather confused, whatever it was it didn't sound pleasant. Sounded like something a Granny Nicher Pog might cook up and force feed her children instead of giving them sweets and candy. Truly a horrible thing.
"Bazmoozeled?" he tried again as he drew the feather of his quill beneath his nose. The tickle causing a sneeze to rip suddenly from his nostrils. His head turning and the splattering of phlegm flying from his mouth and nose like particles of wet dust in the nights air all over Constantins face. "BBBAAAAAZZZZHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLIIIII!!!!" he exclaimed into the sneeze. His eyes widened to the shape of saucers as he slowly turned around and looked back towards Vlad, not even noticing the large green polka dots of snot he had just left all over Constantin.
"Excuse me, I believe I just Bazhooli'ed myself. Do you happen to have a tissue?" he asked as he pressed his quill into the spine of his journal and closed the pages together.
Millicent Wyndham
Location: Formal Gardens, Heaton Hall, Heaton Park, Manchester, England
Skills: N/A
Skills: N/A
The party was complete Crush, which of course was just as their host the Second Earl of Wilton, Lord Thomas Egerton wanted. It didn't matter that people should have been fearing for their lives considering the attacks that had happened in London, a party was a party and the attacks only gave them more to gossip about. Who could have been the cause of it, who had died. There was much talk of a certain woman who should have known her death was coming. Waltzing around in London in breeches instead of the proper dress for an outing in the park earlier that day. Well, as horrible as it was, at least it was one less blight on the Ton Scene. They spewed their usual nonsense about how it was better to leave town anyways. The smell, the poor. Yes, the Soulless was just the ticket to get them back to their country estates and enjoying the summer instead of there. The parties would be stunning this year because of all the chaos.
It seemed the Lord Rutherford and Lord Egerton were enjoying themselves as well. They were speaking in the Formal Garden, off to the far side as Millicent remained as a statue on the bench she had been left at. "I know nothing of it, I had planned on leaving last evening so this did not change my plans. Millicent and I are eager to begin our new lives together," Rutherford said as he glanced over to her to make sure she was still seated and within eye distance.
"I see, so off to the Green is it? Would explain why she isn't being escorted by her mother or sisters," Thomas said as he kept his eyes on Rutherford and the man locked eyes with him.
"Oh poor things. Jayne was one of the ones killed in the attack, Mrs Wyndham was hurt and is in the hospital. Another reason we are in such a hurry. Mrs. Wyndham wants to ensure her daughter is properly wed in case she should pass. Poor thing, such a wonderful woman wanting to make sure her step daughter is taken care of even though so she in so much pain," Rutherford said and Thomas' brow arched slightly.
"That is very wonderful of her, most women would not take so much time to make sure a step child is tended to, especially a bluestocking such as Millicent."
Millicent had tuned out their voices. They were luckily far enough away from her that it was an easy matter. Instead focusing on the sound of the music that was wafting in from the main saloon of the house. Between that, the voices muddling together while the ton gossiped, the clanging of glasses as they were set empty on trays after their champagne had been drained, it was more than a simple task to get lose and not let the voice of Rutherford cut into her mind for the first time that day. The scent of the flowers in the garden helped to drown out the stench she was sure he left on her skin and the shadows helped to keep her from catching a glimpse of his eyes while she sat there.
"Zhǔ a, rúguǒ nǐ xiǎng chéngwéi wǒ de fùqīn, xiànzài qǐng ràng wǒ zhīdào, wǒ bù zhīdào wǒ néng dài duōshǎo." Her voice was tired and worn as she spoke to herself, pulling at her fingers slightly as she bit her bottom lip.
