Welcome to Gaia! ::

It took Elsie a moment of pause to catch her breath as she finally reached the two young boys, the crowds having caused her far more considerable strain that she would have cared to wish, and she placed a hand upon her chest in an effort to aid her breathing. It was more of a heaving bosom type of breath control, something she'd seen other woman do when their corsets grew too tight around their ever-shrinking frames, but Elsie was a woman who could not afford a corset nor did her small figure ever command the need for one. She was slight of frame enough, and a corset only gave her more trouble in movement then it was worth. That didn't mean she didn't know the heaving bosom style of exhaling though, she was a quick learn at what things men liked seeing.

When she felt that had sufficiently regained her breath and the color returned to her cheeks, taking away the bright red that had streaked from ear to ear and even over her crooked nose, she gave her familiar smile at the pair of children who looked so out of place here. Both still looked sick, a fact that troubled her inwardly due in part that they were Grimms much like herself, yet her own health seemed nary a bit changed from before she was blessed with Noel. Perhaps it was because she knew to take better care of herself because of her age and how she knew that if she was sick she would starve, though wouldn't anyone else know that as well? If one is sick and cannot work, one cannot buy food. There was also the fact that Elsie was not above charity and knew she would even beg for coins and food if needed and she had a slight feeling that these two before her still couldn't admit that a belly full of pride left one starving at the end of the night.

But that was that! She had not come over here to talk of such things, or start on possess such rapt judgement! She had come to speak with two young men that she knew, so Noel could see his friend again and she could perhaps apologize to Georgie for the trouble and impoliteness of her ways the first time they met. From the look on his face however she was inclined to believe he didn't know who she was, or at least couldn't remember her very well, but the Seamstress would still not let the incident slide. She would take care of getting him and Adal (wherever he was) a drink as a form of apology to her rude behavior.

"Greetings Chuahn, and greetings Georgie, though I am pretty sure you may not remember me - our meeting before we very brief. I'm sure to give my greetings to Clurie as well, though I take it you have him well hidden against this cold. Noel is protesting against the temperatures as well, though I think it might be because he doesn't like the crowds rather than the cold."

From within the mound of furs a faint smell of rotting coffee, Noel's best known form of showing he was unhappy, began to slowly seep from within and out into the open. His muffled voice could barely be heard against the layers of clothing, but it was quite clear that he was ranting and was still displeased with how Elsie had handled the two people from before. How long he would continue to carry this hatchet was beyond anyone's guess, as Noel was still a bit of an enigma and Elsie had him only partially figured out.

The woman smiled and was about to say something more when she finally seemed to notice the state of affairs the boys were in. Aside from looking sickly, they both looked....upset. Chauhn had sounded like he almost wanted to cry, and Georgie just looked downright pitiful. Had something happened to trouble them? It was funny to think that Elsie's mothering sense was kicking in, she was hardly any older than both of these boys yet she always seemed to forget that fact whenever someone was unhappy. Was it her place to press them for information so she could hopefully alleviate the problem, or should she remain silent and just view the show while at their sides, quietly watching over them? It was a hard choice, but she knew prying now would only end poorly if she didn't watch her words. She chose the option to stay quietly beside them and be there for them if either decided to speak, though it seemed Noel had other choices. He poked his small head from within the layers and looked over at the two boys, his wisp moving around his head like a tiny whip.

"Why do you both look like someone burned your hands? I did not think boys were able to look so downright pathetic like young women. Are you both crying? Chauhn you seem to cry quite a bit."

Elsie was mortified but such an outburst, but there was nothing she could do to make him take back his words. Noel was in high spirts today or so it seemed.

Theo's eyebrows shot up in surprise when Felicity gave a short cry. It had been on the tip of his tongue to ask if she was alright, but a glance towards the rose-like Plague on her arm told him enough of where the cry had come from. The tiny creature's nails dug into her shoulder, and when the woman's gaze had averted from his face, he noted the end of his conversation with her. The man was astounded by the forcefulness of this flowering Plague - he certainly hoped Ophelia would not take a page from her book and try to think she could boss him around - but the surprise was short-lived as a different Plague greeted him, one more familiar than this bitter flower whom seemed to have already made her decision on whether or not she liked them.

"Sir Sloane," he greeted in reply as his lips twitched into an automatic smile to hide his discomfort. Despite knowing Sloane's character well enough to have a good impression of him, the smile always unnerved the former priest. He tried to reply to the Plague's handshake with a firm one of his own, but his arm burned with the effort. Still he smiled through it, as this was easily the warmest interaction he'd had since arriving back in this horrid city for the festival.

On his shoulder, Ophelia regarded Claudia with a subdued sort of wariness. To think that she had been so firm with her Grimm as to prevent her from talking.. and the woman had actually obeyed! The ring Plague was simultaneously awed and affronted - how could one treat their keeper this way? Theo had been her savior, and she treasured him as such; to see another Grimm treated so poorly by their Plague.. needless to say she felt offended for the mousy woman. She was smart enough to gather what lay hidden behind the other's gaze, and the curt introduction had told her all she needed to know. Well, if her and her keeper's company was so detestable, they would take it elsewhere, to one who admired a perfectly lovely Caedos and her keeper in the proper fashion. With that thought in mind, Ophelia turned her attention to Sloane with her head held high and accepted his introduction with a dignified bow of her own.

"I am called Ophelia, but you may call me what you wish." A casual glance over in Claudia's direction followed, as though to indicate the introduction applied to her as well, in some small way. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you as well. I have heard much of you and the Lady Estratus from Theo." She reveled in the bitter joy she felt from knowing that the other Caedos likely did not enjoy her spotlight sweeping away, but she herself was above the childish games of biting words. She would meet her ends with the true mark of a lady - with dignified charm.

All the while Theo watched the proceedings with a buzzing in his skull. 'She's becoming more like me than I myself would like to admit.'

It seemed like the harm he had dealt had sliced farther than he intended. Georgie wouldn't speak a word. Glancing constantly towards his companion, his brows already furrowed close over his weary eyes, he swallowed down a lump of nervousness as the silence between their awkward meeting with the woman grew in intensity. Chauhn worried for Georgie, who was the true victim of Adal and his argument, his only friend if he ever had one. And there, in his palms lay the red of the misdeed. The dark pit only gathered into deeper and thicker coils at the bottom of his gut as he tried to gulp enough air into his lungs to craft a sloppy reply for both himself and his muted companion.

"'E's on m'shoulder, mum, under m'hair," he said, and with a clumsy hand, he lifted the strands of hair that curtained Clurie away from the glance of the world. The ash plague was still intensely involved in the play, his cheeks warm with a dull glow as the actors cartwheeled and paraded on the stage from his clever hiding spot. "'E...'E dun like the cold, but as long as 'e dun touch it, the snow ah mean...'E's fine."

The small talk was almost painful to do, but he kept it up for the sake of filling up the silence and distracting Elsie from the meek Malt boy beside him. He even stepped in front of him, just slightly so that he could get away with playing it as a simple shift in a stiff stance. Chauhn, reaching behind him to give a supporting hand on his forearm, hoped that he was doing his friend a favor. Perhaps even, if...if Georgie's flighty senses needed, he could use Chauhn's self as a distraction so he could escape into the churning crowd.

Then odd and honest Noel spoke up, his little whip of an arm signaling his location. Chauhn looked taken back by his accusation and he had to blink the moisture away from his eyes so he could answer. What quick ire he could call up, he used, and he narrowed his gaze at the little Plague, defensively giving an explanation.

"You 'ave no righ' to say anythin' like tha'," he said, his shoulders stiffening, "It's jus' the cold is all, it's gettin' at us. We've been 'ere a long time watchin' the show."

He wiped his sleeve across his face, trying to keep himself from displaying any more careless shows of raw emotion. He again, steeled his gaze, "You 'aven't but seen me once, Noel, you can't say tha'."

Clurie, at the sound of Noel's voice, tore his gaze away from the show. He was able to catch onto the tail end of his accusation and he scrambled up to his feet to stand on Chauhn's shoulder, "'Ey, Noel, don't say things like tha' abou' m'brother! He's no' a girl, 'e's a knight!"

- 30 minutes into Act I, onto Act II. -

The performance was a roaring display of overwhelming skill. It was no doubt that the Troupe had started to accompany their usual performances with a dash of magic, for what good performers would not give regards the place of their festivities? Sprinkles of snow and glittery gold flecks floated away from the performers as they blew through their hands-- a sheer act of magic.

No doubt the boy in the yellow mask flounced about the performance as the entire spectrum of colors revealed itself through the graceful sweeps and steps of the costumed troupers, who swung their thin limbs through the stage with utmost purpose, a near perfect show of their beauty in sheer numbers. In a rainbow of blurry sight, the performers dared to touch the crowd with their hands and feet at the edges of their stage, as they peered through the Panymese through their decorated masks. Each and every step was mastered in coordinated and practiced accuracy, and yet, even the simplest twirls seemed to invite and to dare anyone from the crowd to follow in their footsteps...

No doubt from the exhaustion of exerting oneself in such a grandeur, colorful performance, the yellow boy walked the center of the crowd, bowing, signaling the end of their first performance. With a twirl of his body, the boy merged back into the group of spectral performers, as a booming voice shouted from behind the stage-- a familiar voice, one would hope:

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our final Act!"

As the blare of instruments slowed, the sound of plucked strings vibrating through the curtains, the acrobats rolled and maneuvered their way away from the wheel of fortune, bowing as the curtains unfurled once again, to reveal a mere four figures from the backstage. The beat of drums dribbled and hummed as the stage alighted with the vibration of enthrallment and sheer anticipation.

A girl, two assistants, and the man in the top-hat burst through the stage. The girl's face was covered in an intricate mask, lacking eye-holes, as two assistants-- dressed in a dashing gold, with masks of their own-- held onto her arms to guide her onto the stage. The girl was covered in lacy, white and gold clothing, her pale arms and legs uncovered by clothing. Her feet were bare and pink, nipped slightly at the edges with a touch of frost.

Then, quietly, performers dressed in red and black seemed to replace the spectral performers from earlier, donning porcelain masks that covered the entirety of their face. Slowly, they contorted themselves as they covered the sides of the stage, their backs and limbs bending and unwinding in strange ways, across the wooden floors and against the shadows of the curtain behind them. Meanwhile, slowly, the girl was lifted onto the aged wheel, as the two assistants strapped her thin ankles and wrists around with thick rope, and the decorated man spun the girl around.

The spinning wheel seemed to spin forever more in a dazzling swirl of white, gold and red, and rotated so quickly that the girl seemed to be lost in a flurry of movement, as the other acrobats in red and black inched themselves closer and closer around the wheel, the man in the top-hat trapped along with her.

As Theo returned his handshake, he could feel a slight shiver run up the man's arm as though he was having trouble. Still, the gesture returned, his grin grew and he gave the man's hand a final shake before releasing. Proper manshake.

Smiling, his attentions returned to Ophelia as she spoke and he glanced at Theo with a grin at the mention of Theo speaking of himself and his Lady pleasantly to his young Plague, before nodding to Ophelia, "It will be good to see the both of you around the castle. I can only hope it is an enjoyable stay and you two feel at ease within our walls." Sloane kept these words intentionally vague as to what castle and where they were staying at. Felicity and Claudia may not have been suspicious, but he did not know them nor their allegiances and the North Base was hard enough to find on one's own even while looking for it, it wouldn't behoove them to have it broadcasted.

From behind, the fanfare grew and Sloane turned to look at the stage. People twirling and dancing, contorting their bodies. Finally, it seemed as though they were putting the wheel to use and a masked woman was lead out by more contortionists as others pooled off of the stage. Her mask had no eyes, her face like a blank slate, and he wondered how a human could deal with the cold as well as she appeared to be with no clothing other than a dress which didn't seem too warm at all.

Looking back at Beatrix, his gaze downcast momentarily before he turned back to Theo and Ophelia, bowing, and doing the same for Felicity and Claudia. Most of his eye contact was with the two Excito but he spared their Grimms an apologetic glance, "I am afraid I must be on my way. It seems the show will be ending soon and I should not linger." Overstaying his brief welcome, he smiled again to Claudia and Ophelia and turned, adjusting his hood to make sure his face was properly covered and returned to Beatrix's side after pushing through the crowd.

"Apologies, I ran into someone and was thrust into conversation," it was best to spare the details and just get on with things, not as though the conversation he had with the two Grimms and their small Plagues was particularly pertinent or memorable, though both of the Excito were. "Did you buy the bells?" and conversational diversion, as well. He felt poorly for having left her which now seemed to have been for quite a while, but now he was back by her side and their charade could continue in peace.

As the Plague stormed off, Jin-Ho couldn't help but watch after him with just a little bit of sadness. When he initially approached, he knew that something had happend with Adal, but he couldn't help but want to talk to him, especially now that Blaithe was grown and in his hand. Adal's reaction to the life-given brush was also a little disappointing. Squeezing the hat gently, Jin-Ho turned around, facing his former companions once more.

Blaithe still watched Adal as he stormed away, her hands finally dropping down in defeat. The smile that was once there was gone, and had she other features, surely they would be pulled into a sad expression. She wanted to follow Adal.

She wanted to follow and be approved.

Jin-Ho's heart ached. Something about seeing that bright little face being upset... it was heartbreaking. In a quick motion, he whipped Adal's hat to his side, forcing it to straighten out after having been wrung, and offered it in front of Blaithe for her to climb in. Of course, she did just what was expected and crawled in, curling her knees to her chest as she sunk into the thick fabric.

Immediately, her expression changed into wonder. She was engulfed by that Anhelo's scent, 'causing her to relax ever so slightly. It was a nice, clean smell, like just laundered fabrics. Her smile was not replaced, but her frown softened.

By this time Jin-Ho had already started walking, his attention being grabbed by the colorful performance on stage and the sudden shift of cast. He, himself, had to wonder how that woman was able to tolerate such harsh temperatures in so little. His eyes remained on stage as he walked forward, only glancing around in order to avoid bumping into others and possibly hurting Blaithe.

"I'm sorry, Blaithe... I wasn't expecting that to happen." Jin-Ho apologized, his eyes still glancing between the crowd and the stage. He tightened his grip on the outer edge of the cap, letting her lay in the slack safely and comfortably. He had hoped the two of them would have been better welcomed, but he should have known better given that Adal seemed to have been upset as they closed in.

Blaithe, having not said a word, was now reclined against the lining of the hat, the tassles of her own in her hands. Her mouth was still pulled into a slight frown, merely a tight curve.

Approaching Sloane and Beatrix, Jin-Ho couldn't help but notice Felicity and the other man, whose name he didn't catch, being dismissed by the sword. He was slightly releaved that he would finally get a chance to not have to force conversation, honestly. With the hat held securely in his hand, he took his place next to Sloane.

"Sorry about that. We'll stay with you the rest of the performance." His tone was a rather flat, almost odd sounding coming from him.

Blaithe did not say a word, distracted by her hat and the smells surrounding her.

Wondering if he could come out and play? When there was a show as amazing as the one that was going on just behind them, stories and characters, vague and personal, spinning into and out of place on stage, right before their eyes, but ever out of reach? Clurie turned his little mouth into a frown, obviously in disagreement with the other Phasmas' logic. He crossed his arms over his overall buttons and lifted his cap a bit, his stance betraying nothing but confusion.

"Whot, are you blind? There's a show going on, Noel, and I don't want to miss it. My brother tells me that it doesn't come often and I don't want to miss much of it; and if I play with you now, I'll miss out on my chance. Chauhn brought me here specially to show me," Clurie said, scratching thoughtfully at a cheek. The mere trace of his finger along his accented cheek made embers splutter along his finger's tip, lighting up his pitch-black skin.

Chauhn, on the other hand, did not approve of Noel's supposed "trick" to get his brother's attention. He didn't approve at all of being heckled and insulted by a Plague no bigger than his finger. It was easy to see his souring face the more Noel spoke, despite his best intentions to remain as placid and peaceful as possible. He was already having a hard time keeping the after effects of his argument at bay and to have a Phasmas harp on him about his sniveling did little for his opinion of the little thing. Comparisons, advice, and blunt observations aside, Chauhn still didn't feel like putting up with Noel and his mother, no matter how kind she appeared to be. The boy wrenched his shoulders back so they rested stiff like a hanger upon his spine, and with a small frown, looked Elsie straight on in the eye.

"Ah think you're kind 'n' all for 'elpin' me 'n the past, 'n' thank you again for tha', but ah don't take kindly to bein' teased 'n' insulted, mum," he said honestly. The little part of him that was his older brother Bradley's taint, prideful and impatient, was rearing its head. A Clemmings never stood for being insulted, never. Back when his eldest brother was still alive, Chauhn could dimly recall his brother returning from another scuffle at the factory, all for the sake of righting the family name. Clemmings were proud and Clemmings worked hard to be who they were, they didn't allow to be spoken to otherwise. Taking a step back, a foreshadowing of his intentions to come, Chauhn made a light bow of his head, while Clurie, on his shoulder, scrambled for a grip, while still confronting the other Phasmas.

"Hey! What did I say about not saying stuff like that about my brother, Noel? If you're going to act like that, all mean and stuff, then I don't want to play with you," the protective Phasmas shouted over to his kin in kind. Squirreling himself away into the curtain of Chauhn's hair, holding tight onto Chauhn's collar and dirtying it with ash in the process, he gave a lift of his hat at Noel and a indignant sniff, "Good day!"

"Not intendin' t'be rude, mum, but ah think we will go back t'enjoying the show. Good day, mum, ah hope you like the rest of the performance 'n' tha' you 'ave somewhere warm to go back to. Ah don't wan' to miss the finale." Chauhn, with the polite bow of his head, and a lift of his hat to synchronize with Clurie's, spun on his heel and turned away into the crowd, easily slipping into the deeper more condensed crowd on the stage. He didn't leave without grasping Georgie's wrist though, gently pulling the Malt boy along with him. He didn't want to leave his mute friend there with the woman, regardless of Noel's attitude, it would be like leaving him with only shirt and trousers in the dark cold of a Shyregoad night. The Clemmings boy weaved his way towards the other side of the stage closer to where Sloane and his gathered party dallied, though they still remained some distance away, but just within sight.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the stage, his and his Plague's breath quickly stolen away from their lungs by the daring sight of skill and danger. The longer the wheel spun, the more Chauhn felt unsettled. His thoughts were still trying to digest the fact that the girl's mask was eyeless, a blindfold more than it was a mask. And, unlike the other actors that leaped and skid across the stage, there was not a smile portrayed by her movements, and Chauhn couldn't tell if it was acting or lack there of. Clurie, still held close to his brother, hiding within his shoulder length hair, peered up with great anxiousness, closer to the stage than he ever was before. His confrontation with Noel was fast forgotten and he was entirely transfixed, and at the same time, he thought of the smell of death, the familiar Plague smell that wafted up from the nearby Plagues like himself. To be smelling that, and watching the show, Clurie was entirely comatose in awe. Beneath him, Chauhn didn't feel so entertained, but rather, more trapped there against his will in the twine of their performance like a gnat in fantastic web. He forced himself to gulp the dry lump that was in his throat as the crowd around him seemed to swell and press against him with anticipation the longer the wheel whirled.

He couldn't stop thinking about her cold bare feet, whose tinge of pink as glaringly bright against her white clothing. Her toes must be so cold! "Georgie..." Chauhn breathed, his words just loud enough to be considered a whisper in the crowd, "Where are her shoes?"

It was there that Chauhn stopped breathing, caught in the masker's spell.

Thank you.

It was such a simple set of words but they truly did make a difference. At least, they would have under most circumstances. But at the moment there were more then a dozen emotions plaguing her, as it were. Silver and gold. It wasn't hard to figure out which she was. Silver, ever silver - ever runner-up, second best, sub par. That's all there was to it. At least before she'd had no one to stand in the shadows of, but now she did. Her look alike, her doppelganger. What a great woman Lady Sage seemed to be.

"I think the gold one would suit you." She murmured, her hand reaching out to give it to him.

And Sloane wasn't helping, either. Beatrix, of course, took the comment the wrong away. Oh, yes, the Plague did need to talk to her to keep up appearances - they needed to act like a team, didn't they? But if it had been normal circumstances the Plague probably couldn't care less about her.

Beatrix glanced over at the new set of faces that had joined them, remembering them from when Sloane had been glancing into the crowd earlier during the conversation. "Hello." It sounded more like a courtesy then an attempt at conversation.

Whatever pathetic thoughts she was thinking at the very least didn't show on her face and she reverted back to something more icy, strong and stern. Truly, she didn't care that he was idly talking with the Plague and not her. At least she knew where he stood now.

As her escort confirmed that she wouldn't be much longer she merely gave a nod, staring out at the stage at the ongoing performance.