Forsythe
RPM
Achronum
kittyluna45
Scrawl Banditta
Not a Sayan
KazAlkemi
Neziul
Location: Almack's
Virginia nodded, though she felt a bit perplexed. Had Millicent and Fyror shared some secret passions between them? All she had witnessed was a dance, and the possibility that Fyror might have true feelings for Millicent caused some discomfort. Not because of Fyror, no--but because Millicent was sacrificing herself needlessly. She found Fyror to be quite charming, to be truthful. His scar served to set him apart from the rest, from the piggish and sluggish members of London society.
And had Mosi given her a moment, perhaps she would have recommended a hallucinogenic to clear Fyror's mind. Her mother had been quite partial to them, and from what Virginia understood, one's worries were quite reduced. But another more thrilling event occurred--or perhaps, thrilling for those who cared for those sort of things. The announcement of the Grand Duchess of the Russian Empire. For a moment, Virginia thought fondly of the mamushka, but she doubted that the Grand Duchess had any affiliations to the cossack cousins of the Crypt family.
With her dearest friend all but wed to Lord Rutherford, and Mosi leaving to attend to Fyror, Virginia felt suddenly quite alone. These events were usually made bearable by their presence. She sighed ever so slightly, wanting nothing more than to leave the establishment, and begin to sort out Millicent's romantic entanglements through the most crafty of means. Yet there was another name announced--Mary Hale, the nun. Virginia's dark mood brightened briefly, recalling that she had meant to see Mary. James was quite fond of the woman, always asking questions about one subject or another--his latest favorite had been the methods used by the Spanish Inquisition.
Making her way over to Mary, Virginia gave her usual smile--which to those who did not know her could be seen as slightly unsettling. She had no intentions of sharing her plans with Mary, on a point of principle. Plots of murder, Virginia figured, would not sit well morally with the nun.
"Your Grace," Virginia greeted the Grand Duchess, before turning her attention to Mary. "Dame Hale? It suits you well, but no title shall truly do you justice." she remarked kindly.
Location: Port Annan
Had she not been going undercover, Maeve perhaps would have given the man a bit of a tongue lashing. To be truthful, she felt quite at ease in these parts. With the trouble and ruckus, it was a familiar environment, with perhaps only one exception--she was out of Brennan territory. She couldn't use her deceased husband's name to her advantage here. Here, she was Neasa O'Connor.
"That'll be right, name's Neasa O'Connor," Maeve confirmed. The man in the disguise of a parson seemed a tad like a duck out of water, and Maeve couldn't hide the slightest cheeky smile. "I'll go fetch m' things, be right back, 'case things get rowdy." Forcing the smile off of her face, Maeve left Calum behind for a moment, approaching the unceremonious dump of luggage and belongings. The sorts who traveled by that ship and those here to collect them tended not to be the most reputable--it was more or less a free-for-all, letting people go through and take whatever suited their fancy at the moment.
Of course, Maeve hadn't been a Brennan for nothing. Spotting her small bag, a few changes of clothes and the like stored inside of it, she saw a dirty hand reaching for it as well. Holding her shillelagh, she gave the person a menacing glare. "Don't yer go an' be dense," Maeve warned, before snatching her bag and walking off from the mob. She returned to Calum, bag in one hand, shillelagh in the other.
"Seem a bit shook, lad," Maeve commented once she returned. "'M all set. Let's get on wi' it, then."
