Sigil

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

@Lady Amalthea

Jane Goodall and the chimpanzees? Oh, how gauche. Wholly accurate from the Farradayan perspective, but terribly gauche.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: La Hacienda
Skills: N/A

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The nature of Caesar's patience was such that, despite the abundance of disrespect being flung in his direction in his own house, he did not delve into his baser nature and do horrendous things with sharp, painful objects. Not to say that the thought didn't flash through his mind, but it was just for the briefest of moments. For another, also briefest of moments, Caesar contemplated whether it was a healthy practice for his thought process to instinctively go there first; mutilation and death. The proper application of violence had served him well over the course of his respectable lifetime. Too well, in fact. But it had also cost him many things. One of which was his ability to interact properly in most social settings that did not require the capacity to intimidate. And his reputation? His family was one thing. They all grew up hearing stories about him, his brother, and other notable members of La Familia. But people like Cecily? Natasha (if she was on the level)? Maybe it was best that people like him were a product of a bygone era.

"I have insulted you, and shamed the memory of my beloved daughter on the night of her viewing. I apologize." His voice was gravelly, low in tone as usual, but there was a distinct sadness to it. "This file contains my personal history up until seven months ago, when I first came to Justice. It is everything publicly accessible, and a few things that take some effort. No contract information. Nothing that compromises my family. Some of it had been redacted by the American and Mexican governments. But it's me with a little more detail than I know about you, now. You and Cecily look it over. Maybe it will help you understand why I do what I do."

"Again, I apologize. The hospitality of my house is yours if you want it." Caesar looked past Natasha to his other houseguest, "The offer I made in your office still stands, Cecily. Think about it." Caesar lowered his head, nodding slowly, and went to return to the viewing below.

Meanwhile, at the main gate...

Benicio thanked the messenger as he left. There was an amount of curiosity that bit into him concerning the nature of the envelope and what it might contain, but the odd way in which it came to him prompted a bit of discretion. Instead of opening immediately and sating his growing inquisitiveness, he tucked it into his jacket and left the area, bound for less open environs within. He too had private rooms in La Hacienda, and intended to utilize them for that reason - privacy.

Meanwhile, even elsewhere...

There was a genocide of many tamales and accompanying sides in an otherwise quiet room. The scent of cumin and cilantro hung heavy in the air as the rampant murder of perfectly peaceful local cuisine met its dramatic, gnawing end. For Thalia, it was mealtime. For tamales, it was the apocalypse.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Vladimir Alexandrov

"The Great Bazhooli"

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
Skills: Fal'shbort, Tretiy Glaz

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The three women safely absconded to the privacy of Elizaveta's tent, leaving Vladimir to his own devices in the grander area of the Tent City. It was an interesting place, this temporary village of canvas and wood. It rarely had exactly the same layout every time it was pitched, yet the people who called it home had no difficulty finding their way around, as if by instinct or a sense of unity with one another that could not quite be given justice with mere description. Vladimir had spent more of his life within it than without, though what passed for his "home" in a permanent sense would be either in the Romanian territory of Moldova within the Carpathian Mountains or the more official seat of power for the Barony, St. Petersburg. Vladimir did not mind touring the latter, as it had more people and hence more money to be made for the Circus, but he personally would rather cool his heels in the off season (when he actually took a season off) in the Carpathian Mountains of Moldova. They had lovely property there. And it was closer to the origins of his people, the Rusyn.

Wistful thinking about his people and their amazing traveling lifestyle aside, The Great Bazhooli was not a stupid man. There were suddenly within the confines of his Grand Tent City three women of importance: A Noble of local standing and famous lineage, a Catholic Knight who inherited a coveted position, and the Grand Duchess of the Russian Empire. And all three of them were speaking privately. Something was up. Hopefully, all it involved was the upcoming meeting with the Graveolase and their respective parts to play within it. That reason would have been enough by itself to warrant some time to themselves.

Then there was the boy, James. Virginia had brought the boy in at Mary's behest, with the Grand Duchess offering the aid of the Circus. Whether that was just for the evening or on a more permanent basis was knowledge he was not privy to, though he would most definitely get answers about sooner or later. Knowing the nature of Veta, and his father, The Baron Dmitri Alexandrov, it would probably be later. For now, he had to verify the security of his home. Again. Before getting back to his family. Again.

With speed and grace that could only come from decades of training, Vlad dashed to the main entrance to the collection of tents, pavilions, and vardos that served as the Tent City of the Russian Imperial Circus. He informed the circus folk stationed there to restrict all unnecessary traffic, and spread the word down to the other points and the frequent shift changes. No outside persons allowed in due to the recent attack on Veta and the presence of the Graveolase, period. He made mention of one or two more bits of protocol (not that he would ever call it "protocol", which was a very dry word) that were specific to the evening.

When he was certain that they fully understood, he departed the area, hopefully to rejoin with his people and hammer out the last details of their performance for the evening.

🦄 The Paradoxical Emendation - Merged With T.S.

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Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"

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Location: Ville au Camp, Kitchen House -> Main House
Skills: N/A

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The calm and dedicated stride utilized by the casually dapper Emendator in distressed clothing suddenly broke into somethig a little more suited to skulking about, preferably in the evening. He had remembered that Alicia had run outside for the purposes of introducing a new Paradox into the fold. Knowing her luck over the last few of them, it was just as likely to be another casualty of that other, awful timeline wherein some incarnation of her experienced an awful, flesh-tearing death. Whether it was or not, it was her job at greet them and answer questions, and in that moment, it was not his job to be present for it. There he was though, walking out of the Kitchen House to witness a Paradox appearing next to the big Oak.

Nope, not on his watch. Instead, Gilbert ducked back around house and made a good sprint for the foliage across the path, away from the big, scary tree they used as a welcome mat. He kept low and moved fast, trying hard not to make this recent newcomer's initial act as a Paradox to soil his undergarments, provided of course that Fate provided them with undergarments in the first place. Could go either way sometimes. He unknowingly took a route not dissimilar to Evelina's, cruising around the garages but instead making tracks for the back of the main house. Apparently, he was just in time to see two Paradoxes (Pair of Doxes?) emerge from the building. He gave a wave and began to jog up to them.

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James Grady

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Location: Ville au Camp - Main House, Room 107 -> Behind the Main House
Skills: N/A

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As far as James could tell, time was funny. Not really "haha" funny, more "wuzzafuck?" funny. Or both. James could agree that is was both hilarious and confusing. Such was the question posed to him by Sophia just then. How long since she died? "Aw hell, hon. I ain't particular sure how to answer that'n. I mean, you ain't gonna die for 'nother seventy-odd years, right? Or I don't know how long you been kickin' 'round in this place. But... if'n you askin' how long from when you died to when I died, that'll be just 'bout seven, eight months, near as I can reckon."

The indomitable blackneck had seen enough science fiction shows about time travel to know that actual scientists didn't agree on the nature of time travel, and the fiction writers liked to make things up without regard to meaningless things like continuity or plot holes. This was enough of an issue to make his head hurt if he thought about it too much. He could answer a couple of questions for Sophia, though. His memory of everything was a little fuzzy. Still there, but like it was the loudest voice in a room of other people talking. Was it because he was dead? Or he was something different now. Paradox. James knew what that word meant. It meant that he shouldn't be there. Technically, couldn't be there, but was anyway. Something told him that he would have to brace for a brutal mindfucking sometime later on.

"Niesha's doin' alright, well, was doin' alright, near as I can tell." He didn't know what to tell her about Newnan, or even if he should. Truth was, he wasn't one hundred percent sure himself. "Aight, long story short, Miss Sophia... I died when a bigass sinkhole opened up an' tore Newnan a new one. I wasn't anywhere in town when it happened, an' I don't know how bad it got. Last I saw of Niesha, she was gettin' on fine with the folks in town. She gave me a big box of medical stuff when I... ah... N'mind that. I'm sure they got it handled an' she good."

He was unsure how to proceed with the conversation. Luckily, a tall, brick-shithouse man of indeterminate ethnicity was ogging in their direction carrying a loaf of bread and jar of something to distract them. "Hey, who that?" James quickly asked Sophia, nodding his head in the direction of the unknown man.

It was Gilbert, of course. He was upon them very quickly, and began ushering the two of them back toward the Main House. "Come on, then. Sorry about this - we have another very new Paradox coming in. He shouldn't see us before Alicia gently breaks the news and smooths things over. Or until she yells at them until they accept it. Hey!" he reserved a broad smile for James, "Our girl told me a little about you. James, right? Here, hold this." He pressed the bread and jam into James's arms and kept motioning for them to duck back inside the passageway. "Sophia, would you please introduce us properly when we get back in?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Thalia Carmichael

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Location: The Truck
Skills: N/A

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The more Thalia thought about their joint venture, the more she wished that she had grabbed her spear and bag from Lola's tank. There was no guarantee that she would be seeing her belongings anytime soon. If things went massively south, there was no guarantee that she would see them, or her good friend Lola, ever again. She had grown very fond of that unstable bitch over the last few months. It would be a damned shame if their travels ended here. Thalia told herself that this was a detour. Just a small detour to take care of some business; balance the equation, as it were. Her people were dead because of these assholes, and so they got the unique honor of a representative of both the Shieldmaiden community and Familia Gonzalez paying a visit to set things straight.

Though her mind was working elsewhere, she did want to make a showing of being present with the conversation at hand. "Lime sinks... Yeah, ton of those down in Mexico." Her reference of familiarity with Mexico might be taken as odd considering her mild New England accent. "Never saw one that big. Not that wasn't a couple thousand years old." When she was younger, Yucatan Peninsula. Damned pretty sight, almost perfectly round and filled with gemstone blue water. Tourist attraction that was almost certainly used as a sacrificial pit by the natives long, long ago. There were even rooms and walkways carved out in the bottom. Maybe she would give it a look one day; the crowd would be a lot thinner. She hoped. But even thinking on it, the hole that was Newnan had to be a lot, lot bigger then even that.

She was feeling a little more comfortable around this new lady who liked giving orders. Not fully trusting, of course. And she had to note that the other person in the truck with them was the guy that she met just that morning. It wasn't the best case scenario. She would have preferred to be with people she knew well, trusted, and of whose capabilities she was fully aware. This was a craps shoot. At least she knew the bossy lady could fight, if pressed to it. But could they be quiet?

"Wait, you don't know what supplies your guys were carrying? Shit, counting assets is a priority if we're going to go killing a lot of people." And she did intend to kill a lot of people. Bad people. People deserving of it. Her mind was crystallizing around that concept. Tio would be proud. Concerning Alexander's question, Thalia wryly responded, "Don't you worry, Mugs. There's always more assholes to worry about."

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

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William Harper

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Location: Newhope - Lady Luck
Skills: N/A

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Harper wasn't sure what about his little performance was most disturbing, the fact that both the laugh and the tears were genuine, coming from some place slightly off-kilter in his psyche, or the fact that absolutely no one seemed to react to it in the slightest. That was a Grade A distraction, and it seemed to be for naught. When the pistol in her hand barked, the enigmatic pilot forced himself not to react. It wasn't easy, though. Not when a gun goes off that close to one's head. Harper's eyes widened in sudden surprise for a half second before relaxing back into something casual, lest any unwanted attention come his way from the authority figure holding the recently fired gun.

Ah well, at least nobody died. And he seemed to have a touch more in the way of job security, such as anything was particularly secure right then. He did feel a little bad for Daphne, though. The indiscretions of youth slamming hard into the life-and-death consequences of life out in the Black made for the occasional painful lesson, as Harper himself was fully aware. Fully, and painfully aware.

He gave Anisa a nod, following her order to help his "escortee" from the floor. Harper put an understanding look on his face and slipped from the chair, coming to crouch slightly over Daphne. "Come on. I've got you. Let's get you up." he said softly, extending his free hand down to her. It was at this time that he realized that someone was already offering her assistance. He wasn't a huge fan of people that invested themselves in other people's dram. It was the opposite of a survival plan, much of the time. Switching to a more neutral tone, he looked the woman in the eyes and intoned, "It's okay, Miss. I've got her."

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Newhope - Lady Luck
Skills: Perception

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It was certainly an act of thoughtful concern for Foy's near and dear friend to put knuckle to door, alerting him to the potential frivolities in store for a well appointed man of the Gentlemanly Arts. Indeed, the slim but dangerous man had since wrapped up his more personal recreation and was toward the end of a truly masterful knot for his very fine necktie, having otherwise dressed and re-armed himself appropriate to the setting. He pulled on his jacket and procured his bowler hat from the lamp on the nightstand, giving his compliments to the stalwart and dexterous professional in his midst.

"Madame, I commend your talent and commitment to the unabridged satisfaction of your clientele! Indubitably, despite never having entertained a guest from the Farradayan Gentry (as was your earlier assertion, yes?) you assuredly have grasped the proficient and vigorous application of a proper Stacheing, indeed! To wit, here..." Foy placed an amount of hard currency back upon the nightstand, "...is ample gratuity. May your bedsprings ever be agreeable, madame. Now then... continued Foy as he placed his hat upon his head and tapped it into place, "I must away."

Of course, he had heard the gunshot just earlier. It was taken with a grain of salt at first, but it did cause him to strap on his Derringers and give a listen for other, supporting sounds. It was not a firefight, more than a argument that happened to have 9mm punctuation, and when Jahosafat gave a little knock at his door it fully convinced the man that most was well. And so, with confidence befitting a man who had his Stache and eat it too, he opened the door leading out to the balcony and strode to meet the main room as only he could: From up above and with perfect posture.

"Dance you say, my ebon counterpart? I should adore the notion of a lively exchange of partners, settling into a robust Schottische, and organized Line, or a precocious Square, would you not?" Stepping to the edge of the balcony, Foy quickly located the rest of the crew and took great interest on the floor-bound Daphne. Not so much the young lady herself, but those around her. The two new faces at the table were still present, the Captain was playing poker as if nothing had transpired, Harper was offering her Daphne a hand up, and no one was dead.

Oh and that woman he was tracking through a sewer earlier? She was also there, for whatever reason, right beside Harper and Daphne with her hand out. "Indeed, let us demonstrate the proper execution of all things Farradayn..." he mused, before turning his head slightly to Jahosafat. The change in the pitch of his voice, though slight, was enough to color his words with a touch of professionalism. He carefully released one of his Derringers into his hand. "Though first, my friend, it is time to get back on the clock, as it were. That audacious young woman with our Pilots is our uninvited guest from earlier. I daresay she owes me a pair of Madisons."

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Qasr El Nil Barracks

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Qasr El Nil Barracks

Reginald sighed and grabbed up a spare clipboard, tacking a few inventory request forms onto it. He had things to do, now that his supply personnel had returned with the requested information. As it wasn't anything along the lines of classified material and they were not in what was considered a hostile nation, and there had been many a time he had brought out contract paperwork with him to whatever watering hole he decided would receive his money for the evening. All the same, it was a horribly bittersweet hour for the Lord Major. Quartermastering for the last adventure he expected to experience, while the the same time saying goodbye to a very good friend. He could at least comfort himself with the knowledge that Aziza would have something that resembled a Happily Ever After, seeing to his estate back in England. It's not like his ex-wife wanted to live there anymore. Someone should enjoy what his station in the nobility could offer. And Sergeant Walsh? He seemed like a decent fellow who just hit a jackpot. "Ah, well. Best of luck to the both of them." he mused aloud. Reginald did honestly wish the two of them a happy and fruitful life together. And if it didn't work out, everything was in Aziza's name and she would be better than fine.

The walk from his office and out into the light of day felt long and lonely. Hopefully, the end of his walk would alleviate some of that as he was on his way to the Museum just down the way for the purposes of finding Vera. He needed to tell her (quietly) about the sudden loss of manpower in their Fellowship, then discuss the particulars of what they would need. The farther he got away from his office, the greater the spring in his step. Soon, he was exiting the main gate of the Barracks and trotting to the main entrance to the Museum.

Upon entering, the Lord Major's eyes fell upon the Starlet and the Reporter; people he knew. But there were also a couple of others he did not. Just at that moment, it did not matter quite so much to him except for the sake of etiquette. There was one person he had just spotted that might be able to assist him in locating Vera, presumably somewhere within the grounds. "Ah, Akhmed! It is a pleasure, dear sir. Oh, but you have company. My apologies." He turned to Neema ad Mahendra, "Good day sir, madame. I am The Lord Major Reginald Keystone of His Majesty's Armed Forces, Commanding Officer of the Qasr El Nil Barracks. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. If you would forgive me for just a moment, my temporary breach in introductory protocol, I must inquire to ...Akhmed! Wherever might I find the Lady Munn at this hour? Dreadfully sorry; business of a particular nature, you see."

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: La Hacienda

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The nonverbal response was enough for him for the meantime. Even if he had to hear about it later on, because quite frankly, she was the ex-wife. It did very little to his sense of well being if she disapproved of something. He did still trust her judgement, even if he sometimes questioned her motives. It was why he wanted her in charge of the Justice branch of his company. The fact that she was knowledgeable in his field, as well as business and law didn't hurt, either. Nor the fact that she was a fair hand with sharp things. Ok, Maria was a respectably awesome person. She just pissed Caesar off a lot.

Caesar turned his heels and proceeded a short way down the hallway. He stopped at a set of solid double-doors and pushed his way inside. He stopped for a moment, feeling on the wall for the light switch. When illumination both direct and indirect made the room more visible, he winced slightly. This was supposed to be his home office, but it was different. Things were out of place. Some of the furniture was new. His brother... updated. Even his computer was new. If so much as one file was out of place, he was going to give the man an earful.

Luckily, his files seemed to be where he left them, if using more up-to-date software. And the same basic commands worked, so that was good. Caesar's knowledge of computers was rudimentary as compared to his daughter and niece. His expertise lay with security tech and equipment, not so much computer systems and programming. He logged into his company's intranet and accessed his account, quickly pulling up his contract history on a search for a specific file tagged with specific keywords. A brief glimpse confirmed that he indeed located the file in question. He printed it out and tucked it into a manila file folder, secured it with a black wire clip, and locked his office door on the way out.

Caesar did intend to apologize. He was at fault. At the very least, he came on with too much, too fast, and at the wrong time. Perhaps the contents of the folder would even things up somewhat, but first, he had to locate the woman. The first, most obvious spot would be the main courtyard in out front. He strode quickly in hopes of catching her before a cab would have had time to arrive. It was unlikely that one would have made it out there in this short a time, but still worth the extra spring in his step. As he moved, he thumbed on his satphone and sent a message to his niece:

Ignore last order. We're not working today. Sorry to ask. Be with friends and family.

Knowing her, she'd probably have a drink or five, too.

As it turned out, Natasha wasn't out there. Nor did she appear to be in the inner courtyard, nor the chapel area. (They were on the way). Thinking about it, he could have facepalmed. She would have to grab her stuff first. A determined sigh escaped his lips as he turned back around and located the stairs leading to the guest rooms. Caesar tried as best he could to soften his features, but that was a herculean, pissing-against-a-tide feat to accomplish. He may as well have been asked to win a chainsaw fight using only the power of positive thought. Or having positive thought, period.

He knocked on the door to Cecily and Natasha's room, and waited for response with the file held out in front of him.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in La Hacienda...

Thalia had made it a point to stop back in the kitchen before the main meal was properly served. Tamales. Dear sweet Madre de Dios, she could really go for her family's tamales right then hey had two kinds, pork and goat. She loaded up a platter with both kinds plus additional puerco asado, grabbed a thermos of spiced chocolate and a handful of tortillas, and began to book it back up to her room. The Gonzalez-who-was-not-Gonzalez started back out of the kitchen when she realized with muted horror that she had to set down little Liam to load up on her meal. Now it became a question of priority: Supper or Baby. Sighing, she stuffed as much as she could in a basket, hung it in the crook of her arm, and picked up her baby cousin gently. She couldn't get hammered while looking after Liam, and she had to take him with. It wasn't like she could just, you know, eat him or anything. Before leaving, she looked to another of her extended family and called, "Tell Maria I've got Liam up in my room, okay?" loudly enough for many people to hear. It would get around. That's how it worked in this family.

Along the way, she got a message on her satphone, prompting an interesting bit of gymnastics to get out her device and view said message. Giving it some contemplation (not a hell of a lot), she decided that it was about damned time he got off of work. She could understand why, and was willing to help whenever and however she could, but it did seem a little uncomfortable to look into the history of one of his guests, like he didn't do his homework first.

By the time she got to her room, she could see Caesar approach the door near hers, file in hand. He was trying to look less angry. He sucked at that. It was within her best interests not to tell him this, but he did really suck at that.

Meanwhile, even elsewhere...

A member of La Familia near the front gate nodded and ran off, into the courtyard near the chapel to locate Benicio. He was a very present figure, handling various aspects of the viewing like a venue director, except he actually gave a rat's ass about the people around him. Upon getting word that a messenger was at the front gate, he went to meet the man. Benicio thanked him quietly but warmly, appropriate as they were dealing with the deceased. He then introduced himself and politely requested the envelope.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Vladimir Alexandrov

"The Great Bazhooli"

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Passive Skills:

• Fal'shbort - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian!
• Tretiy Glaz - An ability that gives a person a sixth sense into the future. Unpredictable and random.

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)

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There was a sense of bold pragmatism in the manner that Ringmaster Viktor had his people handle the situation. Moreover, the roustabouts tasked with handling the scene went about their work with an edgy coldness, as if they were accustomed to dealing with grim jobs like this and found it more of an inconvenience than a point of horror. It was a short piece of time until the area looked more of less sanitized, with the exception of a huge cleft in the pavilion corner support beam, courtesy of the magician's saw that got away from him. One could almost feel sorry for the poor fellow as he meekly stepped forward to retrieve his device, even as he pushed up a box to stand upon while working the wide blade out of the wooden support, the occasional drop of vermilion staining his shirt sleeves in the process. Eyes remained on him, silently asking questions that, were spoken aloud, very well would have contained excessive profanity.

Vladimir had just finished speaking with the trio of highly placed women, and was quickly returning to his people. They had a dry run to go through before appearing before the Graveolase. It was a dance that they had done numerous times, singly, in duet, and in groups. Second nature, at this point in time. And when properly trained Tatushka singers accompanied them as backup, the dance became as art. Hypnotic, beautiful, deadly art, steeped in the traditions and flavor of the Rusyn people - Gypsy or Cossack, Romanian, Ukrainian, or Russian. It was the application of the Grand Mamushka; a dance involving a great number of the Sem'ya acting in sharp, acrobatic concert, of which they were masters, all.

Unfortunately, Vladimir was stopped yet again by Viktor. One of his responsibilities was as the main announcer, and he had a couple of legitimate questions for the Master of the Bazhooli Sem'ya. "Титулы, Великий Бажули! Мне нужно знать титулы двух странных женщин, если я хочу объявить их другим гостям!₁"

The performer known internationally as The Great Bazhooli sighed. Not just an ordinary sigh, either, but one that began as a dramatic exhale, grew into an annoyed growl, and terminated as an open-mouthed yell. He really wanted to get to his family's business as quickly as possible. Sure they had done this many times over, in celebration, in combat, and in practice, but he just needed to get his people warmed up, limber. Shake the pre-entrance ice from their limbs and get them in the proper mindset to go about their duties with skill and optimism. But apparently now right now, no matter how hard he tried.

In keeping with his annoyance and the fact that they were discussing British nationals, Vladimir responded in English. "Vhy for you do not just ask them?" he questioned with a slightly exasperated tone. "No no, I vill do."

In a fashion befitting the showman that he was, Vladimir flourished his hands in a practiced motion, the end result being that two of his finer knives seemed to appear, as if by magic, within his grasp. He used one such knife to tip the brim of his tall, very impressive hat back, and then began to twirl them through his fingers, approaching Virginia, Elizaveta, and Mary by mere steps, just enough to signify that he waa speaking to them but not so close that they did not have to raise voices.

"If man, lowly as myselv among three elegant roses of grace, beauty, and standing may interrupt discussion, important as yours is for obvious?" He gave a half-second of pause purely for the metric of etiquette, "Our noble and gallant Ringmaster vishes to know your titles; full titles that he may announce you as you enter. Ve know yours, Grand Duchess, but are less familiar vith Lady Crypt and Scary Catho... Sister-Knight (you get promotion, yes?) Mary. For please? And remember, ve are showpeople. Vith panache."

Translations

1 = Titles, Great Bazhooli! I need to know the titles of the two strange women, if I am to herald their entrance to the other guests!

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Sister Mary Ignatia Hale

_{"Dame Commander, Order of St. Sylvester"}

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)

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Mary looked to the odd man who commanded so much respect among his people. Maybe this was just how the Russians operated. Or the Circus. Or maybe it was just the ways of this roving group of peculiar but highly necessary lunatics of which Mary was fast becoming very fond. The Great Bazhooli, as he was known, made a valid request (if a little out of turn). So, Mary waited a second or two for a proper conversational break and responded. "That is correct, I have received that honor very recently."

Now for the uncertain part. Due to the nature of her work, her title may be different based upon the nature of the role she had to play. The short form was, if she was called upon to be a Venator, she was addressed with the honorific of Dame. If acting as an agent of the Church purely, it was Sister, owing to her simple vows. Mary represented The Vatican in this meeting, which could not be overlooked if she tried. There was likely to be another, more formal representative present however, and she was angling to maintain her position until a decent, honorable, more permanent solution was available by means of title. Her latest one was granted for this reason. The choice was clearer.

"The Interim Arch Graveolase, Dame Commander Mary Ignatia Hale of the Papal Order of St. Sylvester, Resident Knight of St. Etheldreda's Church in London."

It was getting long. People might accuse her of excessive pride soon, though she was marginally certain it would not be anyone from this circus. More of a concern, was the strange Ringmaster writing any of this down? It really was getting long. But he was probably trained for this.

Elizaveta had done an excellnt job broadening the topic that Mary had initiated. Indeed the Circus was a safer location because of its people. Maybe not quite as safe as The Vatican, but one had to get there first. It was a long journey. Perhaps James could find something more suited to his character here with these people. She was already considering giving Adam her blessings in this regard. But after speaking with The Baron on this and many other subjects earlier, she reasoned that they might need his blessings, too.

"Your Grace, Lady Crypt, it seems we have much to discuss in a short time. Might I suggest that we find somewhere with more privacy in the meantime?"

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Aziza Tarek,
Harry Walsh,
&
Reginald Keystone

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"Yes, of course. I won't let you down Reginald. I would never do anything that would put anything of yours in jeopardy," Aziza said quickly as she looked up at Reginald.

"Understood sir," Harry said as Aziza looked towards him.

"I have never flown before... Do you think I should?" she asked, slightly excited at the prospect.

A twinkle ignited in Reginald's eye at the topic of flying. Naturally he was biased, being one of the original Flight Officers for the British Royal Military back before planes were a big thing and dirigibles were all the rage in battlefield communications. He hadn't logged as much time behind the stick recently as he would have liked, but it remained the single greatest pleasure of his days when he could. "Oh indeed, I would greatly prefer travel by air, you see, if but I were the one piloting the aircraft. Otherwise, I can only recommend travel by plane for the sheer velocity of it. However, if you have never taken an a plane, I should imagine it might be quite the experience." He gave a cheery grin, his hands itching to use a stick and throttle again, "A ship would be slower, but provide greater opportunities for luxury; additionally a ship may drop you off directly in Brighton. A plane might be a touch less comfortable, an upside being a much faster journey. If you wish to put Cairo behind you quickly, I submit a stark affirmative, and shall charter something accommodating."

Harry was content to go along with whatever made Aziza more comfortable even if he disliked airplanes. He wasn't about to say that to the Lord MAJOR though. Not when the man was willing to help Aziza out as much as he was. Plus, he hated smoke and the large ships and trains were nothing but that. So for him it was a coin toss and best left to the lady he was promising to protect. Aziza thought on the matter for a moment, looking over to Harry for his input. The two discussed it quickly, Harry being supportive of whatever Aziza felt most comfortable with. It was rather evident the prospect of flying was a bit unnerving to the woman but that was to be expected, it was something new and flight hadn't exactly been an option for most until very recently in human history. Yet she wanted to put Egypt behind her, at least for her safety. Maybe one day she could return, find her son. Maybe he would seek her out. Swallowing she made up her mind and looked towards Reginald. "I want to fly."

"Excellent, my dear. Unfortunately, there are limited aeroplanes in service here at our small airstrip at the Qasr El Nil Barracks, and they are mostly for supply and postal services... hmm..." Reginald mused aloud, considering any options that may present themselves for use. "...however, I might place a phone call, if you would be as kind as to give me time. Please, take a seat. I shan't be but a moment."

"Of course."

"Aziza, here," Harry said as he rested his hand on the back of a chair and turned it so she could have a seat. Nodding Aziza stepped over to the chair and sat down, arranging the shawl around shoulders better as Harry found a place to sit for himself. It was all in the hands of the Lord Major now.

Reginald was one of the luckier people in Cairo, so far as organized communications went. Being the commander of a major barracks had its perks, not the least of which being open lines to other, friendly entities within the city. Especially as it related to air service, owing to his longstanding, nigh legendary history. He picked up the receiver to his office telephone, and addressed the operator. "Cheerio, yes. If you would be so kind: Cairo Airfield, please. Yes thank you, quite." A few seconds passed in silence as the Lord Major drummed the fingers of his free hand upon the edge of his desk. Suddenly breaking the silence, "Yes, good morning. Lord Major Reginald I. Keystone, Commanding Officer, Qasr El Nil Barracks, at your service, sir. Yes, yes. Oh, I do remember you, sir. Yes, jolly good occasion. Roasted goat and bulgur wheat spirits. Capital. But to business! I am curious as to the state of outgoing passenger vessels, sooner the better, with at least two openings." Reginald grabbed a notepad and pen, and began scribbling furiously. "Yes, oh indeed, sir? Well... Yes, of course. Thank you very much. Absolutely. One hour. Do bill the barracks. Thank you."

Biting her bottom lip slightly, Azizas eyes kept darting between Reginald, the phone, and Harry. Sitting there in antici....._{SAY IT!} pation was horrible but as Lord Major Keystone seemed to be wrapping up his call it seemed as if everything was in order, or at least it sounded that way from the thank yous. He wasn't screaming bloody hell or the like.

He set the receiver back down, and looked to Aziza and Harry. "One hour. In one hour, a dirigible shall depart from the airfield, headed toward London. Everything is arranged, mention my name and you shall have luxury accommodation from there out. I shall arrange for a car to meet you at the London Airport and take you to Brighton. It is done, my dear."

Letting out the breath she hadn't known she was holding Aziza laughed nervously and nodded. There was a slew of thanks from both her and Harry. Harry for the Lord Majors assistance and being a right true friend to Aziza, all the while giving him assurance time and time again that he would look after her and protect her. Aziza for the simple fact that she felt if she could get out of town alive she could finally put this part of her life and fear behind her. There had to be some talk about both hers and Harry's horses they had brought over. Those would have to be sent on ship but it would be done and they would arrive later.

"It is you who are doing me a favor, of course. We have been trying to find a trustworthy Estate Manager for quite some time; I am amazed that I had not suggested this sooner, my dear. I shall assign a relations officer to handle any affairs or personals you have in Cairo. In the interim, you send word my way if there are any complications, and this..." the Lord Major pulled out his wallet, handing over a few of his business cards and two certified promissory bank notes, "Is redeemable with any financial institution that does business with the London banks. It is for expenses and unforeseeables, you understand. It has been my utmost honor and pleasure to be your friend, Miss Tarek, and if I am unlucky enough to survive this mess, I shall retire to the estate that you are maintaining in my stead. Perhaps we shall meet again. My life was the better for your presence. And Sergeant Walsh! It was a pleasure making your acquaintance. If you are fortunate, you may have a long and profitable employment under this fine lady. Good day to you both."

After several more hugs and thanks yous, Aziza and Harry were on their way and heading out the Lord Majors office. Reginald closed the door slowly, a wave of disheartened sorrow passing over him. He never did like saying goodbye to people he cared about. It was a comfort to him that she would be safe from her previous life now, and might even be able to do something about her family situation.

Just as the door was about to click shut, a sharp knock sounded from the other side. It was the enlisted man from earlier, handing him papers before offering a quick salute and returning to duties. The remainder of the inventory report was now in Reginald's hands, which he skimmed through quickly until he located the numbers he was after. "Ha! Jolly good!" he exclaimed, focusing his mind back onto the budding adventure. The figures seemed to fall favorably enough to supply the first leg of their journey, and so his role as Quartermaster now required him to report his findings to the Vera, their Fellowship's leader. "Hmm... I must get myself to the museum, straightaway!"

Reginald did give a couple minutes' pause before leaving for the sake of decor. He didn't know if he could handle seeing Aziza and Harry again, so soon after saying goodbye.