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The large hallways of the Fellowship's base weren't like any maze he's traversed before. Chauhn was an expert at navigating alleyways, street corners, and city rooftops, but the large hallways of Shyregoad's magic base was a challenge to his inner compass. The youthful page meandered about the hallways, none too sure of where he was headed. He had been gently shoved in this direction by Sloane after their meeting after persistent pleas from the little Plague who wanted something to burn. The entire time Chauhn meandered about the walkways, there were little suggestions and observations of perfectly burnable things in his ear, provided by the endlessly hungry Clurie.

"I'm sure that could burn," Clurie said, pointing at a heavy drape that covered one of the hallways windows. "And that."

"Clurie," Chauhn said, his voice without even a hint of exasperation, "Y'know very well tha' we can't burn wha'ever we like. It's no' like the city where we can burn things from the stree'..." He paused and said quietly, "We dun wan' to anythin' t'happen like a' the Council, Clurie."

Clurie's face fell and he tightened his grip on Chauhn's neck, his shoulders quaking about his shoulders from the chill of the Shyregoad air. "It's so cold," Clurie whined, "I want wood or paper."

Chauhn nodded his head, lifting up his hands to cup them about Clurie's form as he rested on the collar of his neck. He didn't know how much warmth it would provide, but it was something. He knew he had to get something soon for Clurie before he got too cold and resorted to burning whatever he pleased for the sake of his warmth and hunger for ash.

"There's got to be someone tha' can 'elp..." Chauhn muttered.

Startled by a voice that echoed in the large hallways more than it should have, Chauhn struck himself as stiff as a board as soon as he saw an important looking man step out from one of the many passageways. Immediately, he reacted as he would if he were still an orphan, searching out possible places of cover or routes of escape, before he huddled up against one of the barren walls. It took him a few moments to realize that he was no longer an orphan but a Page and a Grimm before he yanked himself away from the wall and chose to stand in the center of the hallway, rolling his shoulders back and pulling his spine straight like Yizhaq had taught him to do. He could almost feel Yizhaq's guiding hands on the small of his back and underneath his chin, affixing him into the correct posture.

Clurie, the entire time, was tucked quite snugly in the collar of Chauhn's shirt, trying to keep his gaze on the man as he purposefully closed the distance between them. His attention on the stranger was strong, not because he was speaking to them, but because he had a certain something about him that latched onto his attention like a wayward hook and reeled him in. Clurie gave a sniff.

...Yes, he could smell it on him.

Eventually, Chauhn was able to summon up his voice, "Ahm Lord Yizhaq's page 'n' a new Grimm o' the Fellowship. We're 'ere 'cause o' the attack, they want us safe 'n the castle 'ere, 'n' ah was searchin' for some paper or wood for m' brother. 'E's col', you see, 'n' it's not good if'n 'e's col'."

Swallowing, Chauhn tried his best to keep his composure in front of the man as he very calmly and quite politely introduced himself. He was a clean man, a nicely put together scholar-looking fellow who was swathed in the colors of the Fellowship, of purple and hints of gold. He had similar eyes to Chauhn, the slanted and pulled back look of one born of Imisese blood. While Chauhn had the look and shape of an Imisese, he had the color of a Mishkanite with eyes of a bright green, but the man before him was of truer blood than he. He had dark eyes and dark skin and hair that bespoke his heritage. It was because of this similarity in blood that Chauhn could let himself rest a bit more at ease. He offered a shaky smile.

"If'n you would like, sir Jin-Ho, sir, but m'name is Chauhn Clemmings," the Page said, reaching to his pocket clumsily to take out a handkerchief. His hands were covered with soot and ash which meant that it was only proper to wipe them clean before taking an offered handshake. Shaking hands, in and of itself, was a new thing for Chauhn too, and he wanted to make sure that he got it right. Having cleaned his hands as best he could on a handkerchief that was already soiled with black and grey, Chauhn grasped Jin-Ho's hand and bowed his head, "Apprentice to the Lady," Chauhn said, his voice dry with awe, "It's an 'onest pleasure, sir Jin-Ho, sir, truly."

With introductions out of the way, at least for themselves, Chauhn knitted his brows with the thread of earnest intentions, "Tha' would be a marvel, sir, paper, or kindlin', though ah believe an 'earth woul' be the safes' fer Clurie. 'E's my brother, y'see, 'n' ah keep 'im with me all the time. E's right 'ere."

As if on cue, the little Plague wiggled free and out of Chauhn's collar, peering out of the clothing with great curiosity at Jin-Ho. His cheeks were steadily glowing hotter and his little mouth was pulled into a happy smile. Pointing at the man, he gave a shout, "E's got the smell on 'im, too!"

With an apologetic glance towards Jin-Ho, the page hushed his Plague and readjusted his collar so that Clurie could be more properly seen, "Hush yerself, Clurie, it's not nice 'n' all t'shout."

"But he smells like Yizhaq and Lady Estratatatsus," the Phasmas observed, taking a bigger more audible sniff. His little heart was racing with excitement, having found another smell of one similar like him, "I can smell it, I can, he's one like you, brother."

"He does?" Chauhn looked at the Imisese man with a new understanding, before he let it resolve into a smile, "This is m'brother, Clurie," Chauhn said, turning his attention to Jin-Ho and walking along after him, "'E's got a mouth on 'im like the wind, just can't be quiet, sometimes. But 'e's got a point. You're a Grimm, too, sir?"

Such pleasantries and formal tags, Chauhn was raised to believe, were not in reference to the other's age, but the other's social status, which would be extraordinarily higher than his, no matter what way you twisted it. Even with his recent step up from street waif to Lord Yizhaq's Page, Chauhn was still some ways away from the social ladder where he would be able to refer to others without social tags and manners of respect. He might have the look and clothes of a page, but he still had the heart and the instincts of a tatterdemalion. When Jin-Ho gave his hand a strong shake, Chauhn almost felt the need to run, as if he were going to pull him somewhere and administer punishment. Such were the ways of the past, but Chauhn had to realize that this was now. He weakly returned the squeeze.

In response to the man's reassurance, Chauhn offered a helpless pinch of his shoulders to his neck, "Ah can't call you nothin' but, sir, you're an important man, 'n' all, 'n' you should be referred to as such. If you don't mind me sayin' so, sir."

Clurie, wedging himself up from the collar for a better resting position against the bone of Chauhn's neck, kept on smiling. Even when the curious scholar leaned in and pointed him out, he kept his smile on. Chauhn, on the other hand, flinched back and instinctively lifted his hands to his neck, covering his Plague from the scholar's prodding finger. Clurie, in response to the finger, also gave a cough of ash, as if to cloud his whereabouts, which prompted Chauhn to sneeze and wave his hands about his chin, fanning away the spinning flakes of ash.

"I'm a Clurie," the Phasmas restated helpfully, tucking his thumbs under the straps of his overalls. And then he followed the man's hand to the brush lying at the top of his ear. Clurie's cheeks brightened like embers underneath a blast of breath and he pulled on the straps of his overalls in excitement, kicking his little booted feet so that eh almost slipped and fell out of Chauhn's collar.

"Careful there, Clurie," Chauhn said softly, helping Clurie back into the fold of his clothes. When he lookd up, however he was startled to see that the scholar was freely handing over his brush to him for examination. With blinking eyes, it took him a few long moments to actually realize that he was trying to hand over the Plague before he very gingerly accepted the brush. He stood dumb for a few moments, the tainted brush in his hands, and Clurie reaching desperately for a closer look, before he began to follow after Jin-Ho. he had never thought that a Grimm would allow another to handle his plague so freely. He didn't know the man, and he didn't know him. So...Chauhn's mind tripped. He had hardly the wit to pay attention to him as he detailed the past several weeks of his life.

"That's all very interestin', sir. Uh...If you don't mind me askin', sir...Don't you keep it safe, sir?" Chauhn said awkwardly, trying to keep the brush in the cradle of his hands without dropping it. Clurie, far too curious to remain in one place, scuttled onto Chauhn's shoulder before traversing the length of his arm so that he was sitting atop his brother's thumb beside the brush, "Ah mean...Aren't you afraid of losin' it? Or someone takin' it, sir?"

Clurie, more than happy to admire a fellow plagued item up close, held no motions of curiosity back. He reached for the brush, touched it, and even tried to levy his weight against it so he could lift it, but it was too big a thing for him to do just then and there on the unstable turf of Chauhn's hands.

"Are you going to grow soon?" Clurie asked the brush, prodding it.

"Clurie, dun warm up your 'ands, you migh' damage the brush," Chauhn pointed out with a worried squeak. "Please dun."

Before Chauhn knew it, he was receiving more things in his hands. Juggling both Clurie, the tainted brush, and the paper, Chauhn awkwardly placed Clurie back into his collar before he attempted a trade with Jin-Ho. He took the paper in exchange for the brush.

"Sir," Chauhn bleated again, his eyes wide at the amount of paper Jin-Ho was giving him, "Isn't this a bi' much, sir? Can you par' wit' this much paper, sir? Ah mean, Jin-Ho?" In all honesty, Chauhn expected 'a' piece of a paper, not an entire stack. Clurie nearly fell out of Chauhn's collar for joy at the sight of so much paper.

"I can burn ALL of that?" the little Phasmas beamed in disbelief, "Gee!"

With a bundle of paper in arm, Chauhn hurried after Jin-Ho. He was easy at getting lost in not only the castle but in his own thoughts, results of a blatant culture shock. He couldn't help the little fuzzy feeling he had in his chest, though. Such kindness was hard to come by, he thought, and he still had no idea how he was going to repay the man for the favor. He was still a boy who returned what he earned, no matter the case. Perhaps...

"If'n you need it, sir," Chauhn piped, falling into step just slightly behind the Imisese scribe, "Ah can run messages for you, o' documents, o' papers. Ah wan' to repay you for the paper, Jin-ho. It was dreadfully kind o' you. Clurie is hungry all the time. Sometimes, ah dunno 'ow to keep up wit' 'im."

As they traveled along in the hallway, their footsteps harmonizing in a dull song against the thick rug, Chauhn continued in his hapless explanation.

"'E doesn' do well 'n cold, y'see, 'e needs to be warm. 'E burns things if'n we can't find safe things for 'im to burn," he said lamely, with a fond look down at his plague, who was currently dirtying his collar with little hand prints as he searched for a firm grip.

When they entered into the dining room, Chauhn and Clurie both seemed to gape at the fireplace in awe. Clurie, giving a hop and a pull against the fabric of his brother's collar, immediately demanded to be brought over and Chauhn was more than happy to assist in his will. The young page made his way over, all the meanwhile glancing at Jin-Ho with gratefulness, "This is perfect, Jin-Ho, 'e can burn things 'n' it'll be safe!"

Kneeling down and adjusting himself into a comfortable sit, Chauhn carefully carted his Plague from his neck and to the fireplace. For a few moments he watched him, carefully observing how quickly Clurie dived into the fireplace to frolic in the left over cinders of wood. He laid the stack of paper out of Clurie's reach, knowing full well that the ash plague would simply burn through the entire thing if he were left up to his own devices, and then relaxed enough to slide Clurie his own piece of parchment.

"Ahm sure they will, sir," Chauhn said earnestly, though, the honesty was forced. Chauhn didn't know what he thought of a little friend for Clurie. There was a little part of him that would enjoy the distraction, and yet there was another deeper more possessive part that snarled at the thought of Clurie making a friend besides him. He slapped that feeling away though, resigning himself to a well played out earnest expression, the talent of a young waif like him. Instead, he forced himself to choke out a bit of small talk, "Clurie's been lonely so far, 'n' it'd 'elp if'n there was someone 'is own size t'play with when ahm busy."

Upsetting the ash in the fireplace, Clurie ran through, around, and into the piles, clambering about until he was positively covered in the stuff. He felt so good to be covered in ash. no longer exposed but bound up and wrapped snugly in his element! It wasn't complete, though, he had to have warmth. Real warmth, like fire. Scrambling over to the offered piece of paper, Clurie dragged it into the fireplace underneath the iron cage. With a rub of his cheeks, sparking them to life so they glowed like embers, Clurie warmed up his hands. It was easiest to do with his cheeks. Having warmed up his hands so they, too, sparked and glowed, Clurie touched the paper. Wherever he touched, little flames of ember sparked, quickly catching the flame so that it ate away and suddenly flared to life on the paper, releasing a burst of heat. Satisfied, Clurie gave a loud crack of a laugh and proceeded to make a nest with the paper as it burned, coveting it all around him until he sat amidst the flame and ashes.

"Warm!" Clurie piped from the fireplace.

Chauhn was struck stiff by the man's final question. It wasn't something he was asked often, but it was happening with startlingly increasing frequency. Giving a swallow, purposefully turning away from the hearth to look at the man and away from the flame, the once-urchin gave a small forced smile, "He was m'brother's ashes."

Most people, upon hearing that the source of the little Phasmas, the inner essence of Clurie Clemmings, was actually...Clurie Clemmings, most blanched and looked away. Some even had the nerve to say "He may be from your brother, but he no longer is his brother", which elicited a fiery and uncharacteristic rage from the boy. It was surprising to hear that this Imisese scholar agreed. Perhaps, not in the same essence that Chauhn believed it, but definitely the same words. This prompted the page to give an excited, almost ecstatic nod of agreement. "'E is! He really is m'brother. 'E came back to me," he spouted, his words sounding almost desperate in a way, "'E was gone wit' the rest of m'family, but then 'e came back. 'E just needs to get bigger is all. Then y'can see that we share the same eyes! 'E 'n' ah, we've always looked the most similar, though 'e has darker 'air than mine. Ah have Imisese skin, like my mum did, but ah 'ave m'father's lighter hair, though it's gettin' darker. Clurie 'n ah look really similar. You'll see! You'll see when 'e gets bigger."

Chauhn happily squeezed his arms about himself, and glanced at the little spluttering flames and coughs of ashes rolling about in the fireplace. Clurie was nearly done with his first piece of paper, having little control over how fast the paper burned away. Setting another paper into the fireplace for the little Phasmas, Chauhn set himself back to listen to the scholar's woeful account of his own sibling.

Though, Chauhn was confused over why he was so distraught. Being a lower class, himself, he looked at those stories of being married into wealthier families as stories with happy endings. He understood being separated from your family was a sad thing indeed, but still..."She 'as a big family now, though, 'n' she dun 'ave to worry for anythin' at all!" Chauhn fiddled with the fabric covering his knees, "She 'as wealth, 'n' she has safety 'n' a place to live. Ah would be happy for her. Ah would be happy if'n ah was her. If'n you don't mind me sayin' so, sir."

Clurie, in the meanwhile, was as happy as a kid in a candy store. He pulled the over paper close to him and wrapped it around, causing it to burn where ever he touched. This way he wasn't so cold...He hated being cold. It made him feel so lethargic and lazy, he couldn't think straight. Not like he could think straight in the first place, but he would think less than he normally would. He gathered the paper in his arms, crunching and crumbling it so that crackled with noise as it burned away in his touch.