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Jin-ho's presence was welcomed, accompanied by Blaithe and now three bells. The two in his collar moved down, peering at the many he had assisted Beatrix in plucking from the ground, tucking themselves neatly into a leather pouch on his belt, feeling the warmth inside from the touch fabric.

The single word of acceptance from Beatrix reassured Sloane slightly and he watched her carefully with narrowed eyes and closely knit brows slanted in skepticism and worry. What she said next only intensified this look and he shuffled closer to her, holding out his hands and the bells jingled and chimed, holding onto one another and gazing up at the raven haired woman with perplexed interest. "I need not help anyone but you," he said curtly, expression turning stony. He had done all he could for the people here and the bells, for Chauhn and Clurie and everyone else. There was no one else who needed his help and though he had not known Beatrix long, he could tell she was not herself.

She needed help.

"We have to go, we should go together..." coming to a stand, Sloane allowed the bells to return to the ground or climb further up him and gain stability before holding a hand out to her so she could do the same. Turning to Jin-ho, he nodded towards the direction Lord Yizhaq's carriage awaited, staying through all of the mayhem and carnage, "If there's not enough room for five, I'll walk the rest of the way." Lord Yizhaq, Chauhn, Jin-ho, Beatrix and himself. He had a feeling that despite the Lord's position, it would be of fairly average size on the inside but they would have to see.

Glancing between the Imisean man and the despairing woman before him, he gave a nod. "Either way, we will get back to the castle... The Black Knight will know what to do from here..."

Too fast. Everything had happened too fast.

Now that the chaos had subsided, Theo reached up to touch his face, still numbed from the shock. He was half surprised to feel moisture.. was this sweat, tears? The two fingers rubbed together and he examined them - no, it was blood. The sight of the crumpled boy on stage, the one he had tried to aid, assured him of the source. He saw the small bodies of the bell Excitos crumpled in the mud, their confused brethren still running to and fro between the legs of the people still about. The smell of blood was thick in the air, and bile started to rise in his throat.

"Be calm." The muffled words startled him momentarily, and he released the top button of his coat. Ophelia stared up at him with bright, serious eyes. At this moment, after chaos had passed and he felt useless and lost, she had come through as a voice of reason. Her tiny hand patted his chest, and he nodded shakily. A tug on his pant leg alerted him of two of the bell Excitos, who climbed up his leg when he had given no sign of dissent. They tucked themselves into his weary arm and seemed to relax once secured. It seems they felt safer once in the safety of a higher place, without fear of being stepped on.

Theo knew exactly how they felt.

Sloane was preoccupied with Lady Estratus, while another stately looking figure and the urchin boy he had met so long ago stood at the ready. Another man was there, but Theo didn't recognize him. But then his eyes fell on the sight of a woman kneeling in the mud, presently emptying her stomach onto the ground. He remembered her from her rude dismissal earlier, but something else was nagging him. That selfsame familiar feeling he had.. but it was sharper now.

Her cries.

The woman who had been so abrupt with him earlier was the one that had confessed to him of seeing such horrors. Rudeness aside, the poor woman had suffered as much as any of them present. Begrudgingly he knelt down before her, taking care to avoid her puddle of sick. The squirming Excitos in his arms became anxious again as they were lowered to the ground and clung to his sleeve, hoping they weren't about to be left behind. Theo fished in his pocket with his free hand and found what he was looking for - an old, starchy handkerchief.

"Here." The words sounded dry in his throat. He hadn't spoken since trying to aid the poor Grimm who lay dead on the platform. The man thought he should dig up some stored words of comfort, ones he had kept locked away for worrisome churchgoers during his assistant days, but none would come. All he could do was gesture his handkerchief towards the woman. Others were here, but none came to help.. why was that? "Do not worry. It's over." Ophelia's head nudged its way from the confines of Theo's coat pocket and her deadpan eyes widened dangerously at the presence of two new Plagues in her keeper's arms, as though she were staring at something disgusting. She had been right about the boy and the bells, but there was no reason to be taking them home! This Grimm was spoken for!

"Theo, they're leaving." She spoke offhandedly from a quick glance towards the convening group of Mage faction members, but had hoped that Theo would move on from this woman and leave the Excitos in his arms behind. He turned towards the group and then looked back at the girl. He patted her shoulder uneasily, as though he did not know what he was rightfully doing, but it seemed to say that he would be back in a moment. He moved somewhat reluctantly, wracked by a certain guilt that she did not know of. It made Ophelia rather uncomfortable.

"Sir Sloane, forgive my interruption but I have noticed that the party is departing for the castle." The two Excitos he carried waved to the ones that moved out of the former churchman's way as he approached the taller Plague. "Ophelia and myself traveled on our own, but given the circumstances..." He glanced around uneasily. Who was he to be asking favors? But he was quite unnerved by today, and did not wish to endanger himself any more than what was necessary. ".. It might be best to travel together. We can walk alongside the carriage, we do not wish to burden you or the Lord with the trouble of making room." Ophelia wriggled away from the twin bells in her Grimm's arms, who had just discovered her private pocket and arranged herself on his shoulder. But the man was still troubled, and he glanced back towards Elsie, "Also..." He seemed anchored to this woman for the moment, after all she had suffered. Ophelia frowned deeply.

She did not like this uneasy pity in hers. She did not like this at all.

When flinching was a natural thing that Chauhn did at any touch, like a spooked animal who had not relaxed enough yet to realize that any form of touch had the potential to be gentle, he did not move away from Yizhaq's hand. He locked his eyes with his lord while trying to forcibly wrangle his composure into stillness long enough to converse with the man. The shaking traumatized boy that hid within him wouldn't be allowed to take control of his body for some time yet, not until he was back at the castle and somewhere he could hide himself away without fear for endangering his family's name or reputation. A Clemmings was not a coward, and it was that law that Chauhn clung to to keep himself from completely breaking down into hysterics unlike the few people around him. Chauhn would be as strong as he was expected to be, and the simple nod to a job well done, Chauhn felt a little stronger, having earned a nod from his master.

At the mention of having another task, Chauhn immediately nodded his head, eager to latch onto a direction that would distract him from the carnage around his bloodied and soggy form. More precious Excitos, safe and sound, looking quite bewildered and confused at the strange new world around them, carefully produced from Lord Yizhaq's pocket. The page nodded his head, opening his arms to receive the three more Excitos, as eagerly as he would receive a family member.

"Yes, m'lord," Chauhn choked, his words coming out of his throat in broken gasps, "Ahll take care o' them, sir."

The three little bodies were entrusted to him, placed into his dirtied hands, and Chauhn tried to look down into his collar, awkwardly noting that he already had three Plagues with him. There was little space left for them in his shirt, what with Clurie and the two other bells, and Chauhn wanted to make sure that they were all safe and secure. Without saying something comforting like he would have done in the situation had he not been petrified, Chauhn quietly shuffled the Plagues into one hand while he adjusted the scarf that had become entirely loose and jumbled about his neck. He wrapped it anew around his neck with his one arm, and, when satisfied with it's bundle about his chin, carefully guided the three new Excito into the nest. Fearing getting buried underneath the fabric, the other two, the silver boy gasping a bit and having difficulty using his legs, were helped up by Clurie, into the new nest of relative safety around Clurie's shoulders and collar. Together, five bell Plagues and an Ash Phasmas, huddled against one another and blinking out at the strange world around them, made a curious Excito necklace, strung together by his scarf. Whenever Chauhn shifted, there would be a small accompaniment of chimes.

One they were all in place, Chauhn followed Yizhaq to the rest of the party, blinking his tired and strained eyes at the group of people gathered about with slumped shoulders and shaking joints. There was mention about the carriage taking the weary group back to the Castle, without Lord Yizhaq, and Chauhn immediately stepped away from the vehicle. With baleful eyes, he stared at his lord, misunderstanding what it meant when he said "you all". Surely, the Lord wouldn't stay here alone, not when he was in the very place that spawned the nightmarish scene. Who would know what kind of garish monsters still lurked, forgotten and abandoned, or perhaps lying in wait for some lonesome passerby to fall into their trap. Chauhn tried to step behind Lord Yizhaq, as if to emphasize the point that he wouldn't be joining the carriage if he had to stay behind and survey the traces left behind of terror. Besides, with Sloane and his Lady, Jin-Ho, Elsie and Theo, they would be hardly enough room for Chauhn, unless he was gathered up onto someone's lap, and that, in itself, would be a difficult thing for anyone to try and convince him to do. Chauhn was Lord Yizhaq's Page and he wouldn't leave him alone even if ordered (or at least that's what he liked to think).

The urchin tried to duck his head and make himself invisible from the group that was being sentenced to the ride back to the Fellowship for safety, the little glimmer of bells betraying his subtle movement. He tried not to glance at Sloane, who could, and may as well might, try to get him to join the group back to the Fellowship. Sloane was one of the few that he also pledged himself to and if Sloane asked him something, it would be difficult for him to deny him.

"Before what?" was certainly what Sloane was thinking but given Beatrix's current hysteric behavior he decided not to voice the question and urged her onward. Making sure their other companion, Jin-ho and the few Plagues attached to him beside his own, followed suit, Sloane lead the way to Lord Yizhaq's carriage, one of the only figures still lingering that was certainly alive. Everyone else had hidden away in their homes or was out of sight, besides the few he was vaguely familiar with here.

Opening the side door, he ushered Beatrix in and then promptly Jin-ho. A glance determined that Chauhn was lingering back with the Lord and Sloane began approaching to gather the boy up but was interrupted, hailed by the slight rush of words that came from the once-priest. In all of the excitement, he had nearly forgotten and the Plague quickly nodded with Theo's words, agreeing immediately. "Yes, there looks to be enough room, do not worry about walking," after all, he had planned to give up his own seat should there not be enough.

However, Theo paused and looked back at someone, Sloane's eyes widening at poor, dear Elsie. Not a time slipped by during the performance or after that he had seen her, but there she was, present with the Phasmas his Lady had told her she had seen in passing. Now was not the time to concentrate on meeting the new Plague as the woman was clearly in need of assistance and Sloane ushered Theo over to her along with him as Lord Yizhaq called over to the group. So he would be staying behind? Very well, then the carriage would end up fitting the lot of them, the new headcount being himself, Beatrix, Jin-ho, Chauhn, Theo and Elsie, all accompanying Excito not withstanding. They could all fit nicely.

Kneeling down beside her, silently asking Theo to do the same with a glance of his eyes, and gently pulled Elsie's arm over his shoulders, waiting for Theo to do the same before lifting the ill woman to her feet. A momentary pause was given for her to situate herself before the trek was made to the carriage and Sloane assisted both of them inside, lady's first. Now there was only one left to take care of, to make sure he got home safely, but as Sloane turned to look for the boy in question, he appeared to be intentionally breaking eye contact with him. Frowning, Sloane rested one foot on the step bar, holding onto the door frame.

"It may not be safe..." but he could already tell the boy's mind was made up, though why was lost on him. Not knowing Lord Yizhaq that well himself he could not fathom exactly how deep Chauhn's loyalty to the man went. "Do you want me to take them back with us?" a pointed claw was gestured toward the scarf around Chauhn's neck, housing roughly five different Excito. It would probably be best for them to at least stay out of the cold, particularly Clurie who seemed to disdain it due to his body's composition.

There was a hop and skip in Georgie's heart as he saw the roaring performances of the Troupe in front of him pass by in flying colors. His vision retreated to staring longingly to the sides of him, searching mindlessly for that arsed Locos of his that he had not lived a decade without, and he grew increasingly more weary as Chauhn and Clurie's minds were wrapped around by the great gale of the acrobats before them. Why Georgie couldn't concentrate on the dazzling spectral sight before him was strange, a wonder, but his feet slipped away further into the crowd as the Clemmings' divided attention diminished at a rapid pace. He could feel something pull him through the assimilation of the shocked and awed crowd that he tried to merge into, a kind of pull that beckoned him to inch closer every given minute, as to slyly shy away from the friend he had depended on not too long ago...

But Adal was quicker than him to react, quicker than him to take one diminutive step away, to coyly ignore the fact that Georgie had indeed tried to talk to him after their little spiel, his little spiel, for he had nothing else to give for it except for a brunt satisfaction and a galleon of annoyance. The Plague's irritation grew to an impressive extent, and even he could not fully immerse himself into the strange lures of the people in front of him. It was in this pointless brother's masquerade that the two did not seem to find themselves in time for anything, and it was in this that neither of them could fully enjoy the event in which they had both, to some extent, had dragged the other into actually going.

Adal's steps slowed only when the strange man on stage had started to talk, with the scantily dressed performers flooding the aged wood and tricking his eyes. His brows furrowed and his frown curved into a deep-set frown as the man's political banter grew in volume in a roaring rage, and it was then that the Locos promptly scoffed and turned to leave. It was only a matter of time for the performance to have lost its grandeur, though he didn't expect it to lose its glamor and magnificence in such an impressive time.

As the Locos' back was turned, the freckled boy stalked not too far behind from him. And it was in that moment that Adal could hear the sharp gushing of sharp blades echo through the area again and again and again, and it was that that made the him turn around with a creeping curiosity, and tried to tip his head forward as to avoid Georgie's inevitable visage, whose head was also turned to look at the sight before them--

A golden pair of Locos eyes stared back at the crowd with the reflection of cold death.

With the quiver of his breath, Adal rushed forward, his teeth bared as he darted through the crowd and pushed past the unbecoming few that dared to move toward him to get out of the way. Georgie's voice let out a painfully pitched gasp, as he moved his heavy body against the surface of the snow and clashed with his Plague's raging self with the force of his shoulders, as his head was bared low as if to shield himself from the oncoming terror of screams, terrible screams... shouting, Adal pushed his feet through the murky brown snow and dragged himself and Georgie toward the stage, his arms outstretched and pushing away from the force of his Grimm's weight.

But Georgie remained, his arms clung around beneath the ends of Adal's shoulders, barring himself around Adal in a weak attempt to keep him away from the stage, his eyes squeezed shut as he murmured low things, the tone of his voice broken by the weary days of his passing illness. Yet, even with his guardian at his shoulders, Adal wrestled his shoulders off of himself, as he bolted through the rest of the distance needed to get to the stage.

Sprinting to catch up, Georgie clung onto the loose sleeves of Adal's shirt, his freckled face knotted with wrinkles as he shouted past the surge of people, muted pleas as the two Malts were separated by an ocean of oncoming Quietus. The edges of Georgie's fingers slipped off of Adal's sleeve, as he stammered and staggered through the rush of pointed fingers with a pathetic blurt. Adal continued to fight against the tide of Quietus, pressing past the new-found myriad of Excitos at his feet, though his attention on them was for naught.

"A-adal-- ADAL!"

The hat Locos clawed through the tide of Quietus, jutting his shoulders at their bony chests in a narrow attempt to get farther ahead. Blindly grasping at whatever article of clothing he could find was Georgie, who eventually gripped onto a n** of Adal's jacket.

"GET OFF OF ME!" Adal's voice was blistering with an unkempt anger that swelled in his cheeks, which burned a bright red. As Georgie wrapped his arms around his torso, the blond tried his best to pull away, kicking and shouting curses as his freckled Grimm sluggishly maneuvered through the returning fury of Plagues. Georgie's eyes were squeezed shut, his head hung low as he moved onward and waited, waited so patiently for this moment to pass, when Adal would stop pushing the both of them forward, and when he would stop shouting, and when there was no more Excito screaming at his feet, and when the contorting Quietus would stop slowing him down...

But, when everything quieted, and Adal's furious objections came to a halt, there was still an adamant ringing that radiated through the brunette's ears. Adal stood in between his brother's strong grip, his feet now a dead weight, as he stared wide-eyed at the stage before him. Georgie's back was turned, and the boy was left to sob, his fingers prying and digging into Adal's shoulders as he slunk into the snow.

A silent resonance of broken Grimms stood in an idling lake of seeping black.

"Thank you," was all Theo replied with as he followed Sloane to assist Elsie, who still remained on her knees in the mud. Ophelia kept her expression even but stony. But if she could feel such a thing, she felt a tinge of worry. Her master's concern for both the bell Plagues and that woman were unnerving to her - this was not the Theo she loved. Her Theo was private and cold to the world, and exclusively hers. She did not like this new, caring face he was putting forward, if one could even call it that. Still, she kept her feelings in check. Today had been rather trying; this was nothing more than a phase, something circumstantial. It would pass. They would return to the castle and life would resume at its normal pace.

Theo's mind was still trying to get a grip on everything that had occurred. He stepped around broken Plague bodies and Elsie's puddle of sickness to hook his arm around her, and with the affirming nod from Sloane, assisted in lifting her up. Luckily Sloane was the much stronger of the two, so Theo was able to use his shoulders to help support her and lead the woman to the waiting carriage. Already it was occupied - the unknown Eastern-looking man and Lady Estratus. The two helped Elsie inside, and she moved so slowly, as though in a dream. Not that he could blame the woman for the shock she felt after today. Theo already knew it would blanket the landscape of his nightmares for weeks to come; now the cries of the woman next to him from confession will have proper images to go with them.

Again, Theo felt that pang of pity.

He turned to glance back at Chauhn and the important-looking character that he stood behind, but was ushered in by Sloane as the Plague went to speak with them. Theo let it slide; eavesdropping into affairs that did not concern him was no way to make a good impression with the members of his new home. He settled in next to the woman, who immediately began to nod off. This woman, whose name he did not even know, wracked him with such guilt.. why? His eyes cast a glance in her direction before settling onto Ophelia on his shoulder. She moved to sit closer to him and rested her small head on his cheek. With such a whisper of a touch, he too closed his eyes, if only to stop the throbbing in his head and rightfully process everything that had just happened. But his Caedos had no plans on resting. She glared down from her eagle's position at the two bell Plagues in Theo's arms. The two shivered at her baleful gaze and huddled together in his arms, perfectly content to stay right there and far from her.

Ophelia did not mind. As long as they remembered who Theo's favorite was and stayed out of her way, things would work out swimmingly. She would make sure they would never forget.