It's your own fault, you know.

[Chesslin]

Chesslin made no move to apologize to Allen, mostly because he had no idea how to stop doing what he had done. Walking quietly was second nature to him, first because of his light weight, but mostly because of the need to remain hidden. Though the laws were less strenuous in Shim than here in Marn, it still would not have done to be caught sneaking away to practice weaving his magic. He had trained himself long and hard to move without sound. He was not about to start now.

The topic was abandoned, however, in favor of the topic of food. Once again, Chesslin found himself silent, but for a different reason. Allen cut across him before he could object to the offer of a meal - Chesslin really was not hungry, but Allen seemed fiercely inclined to feed him. It was only polite to take the offer, Chess supposed. The man was putting him up for virtually nothing, after all...

Only when Allen finally asked about how Chess had slept did he get the chance to respond.

"Very well," he answered, nodding seriously, a gesture of thanks. He had slept long and deeply, and more soundly than in the last several months. At some point, recently, Chess had become uncomfortable with sharing Ulvir's room. His brother's heavy breathing kept him awake at night. The silence of this place was by far preferable. "Thank you."

[Allen]

Wondering when he'd turned into such a bloody mother hen, Allen poured a decent enough portion of the spiced oats into the bowls. Passing Chess one and a mug of tea he climbed up into one of the "leggy people" chairs and began to eat, humming when the taste of cinnamon (another pricey commodity, but he was willing to pay) and apple warmed his mouth. He may be an alcoholic and a manly dwarf, but he did enjoy eating good food. He didn't bother to look up much at the boy, not wanting to seem like a softie or anything stupid. Didn't stop him from looking when he thought the boy wasn't looking.

Breakfast done and dishes washed and stashed safely back in their places, Allen gathered his bags and coin purse for the trip. He watched the boy stare at him, seeming almost impatient, as he moved through the house, ending his little trip with a ball of twine and a knife. He stuffed both in his pockets, knowing what was to come. The boy, more likely than not, would get lost. Allen was hard to see in a thick crowd, this much he knew, but he certainly wasn't about to hold the damn lad's hand! So, he was going to offer to give the serious lad a bit of twine, a bit that Allen would hold the other end to. Of course, now that the dwarf thought about it, it would be an insult to the poor lad's clearly sought-after independence, so, what the fuck? Allen had a plan, but he hoped he wouldn't have to put it into place.

"Alright, ready. You got butterball?"

[Chesslin]

Chesslin took a seat at one of the taller chairs in the dining room. He gathered his bowl close, choosing to hold it in one hand rather than let the table support it, and tucked into the warm spiced oats. The cinnamon bit unexpectedly into his tongue, and he paused. That was an exotic, expensive spice that he and his brother had tasted maybe there times in their life, on holidays and only in small qualities. Suppressing a light smile - the fact that the dwarf could afford this on art had good implications for living in the city - he took another mouthful. He did not stop eating, much to his own surprise, until the bowl was empty.

With the meal and the washing done, Chess waited, watching the dwarf as he bustled about preparing for a day on the street. What exactly they were going to do, the boy still did not know, but Chesslin wasn't really sure he cared either. He was going to see the bustling city of Marn. He could hardly imagine what it would be like. Nothing similar to little Shim, he was certain, and the thought made his heat race and his fingers twitch with impatience. Once or twice he accidentally caught hold of a humming string of magic in his fidgeting, but he released the pressure as soon as he encountered that power. It would not do to be burning this house down, as well.

When it finally appeared that they were on their way, Chesslin stepped out of his corner, but he was stopped by the dwarf's gruff voice. Pausing again, he started at Allen. Butterball...? Who was this...?

"Oh," he murmured, blinking. A little dip appeared between his brows. Why Butterball? "I'll be right back."

Turning on the worn heel of his aging, pliable fabric shoes, Chesslin hurried back into his room. He reached up into the basket on the dresser, prying off the top, and scooped his dormouse out into his palm. The creature pattered around across his soft skin for a moment, squeaking in protest at having been left behind, before Chesslin slipped it into the deep pocket of his tunic. The creature settled into a ball at the bottom, and Chesslin hurried back out into the main room.

"Why Butterball?" he asked when he had finally returned to Allen's side, ready to leave.

[Allen]

The dwarf shrugged as he stepped out onto the street, locking the door behind Chess.

"He looks soft, kinda buttery. So, Butterball." Allen looked up into what he assumed was a confused face. "Hey, I'm an artist, not a naming professional." He gruffed out, trundling down the street.

"You stay close, alright? I don't want you getting lost. If you do too many times, I'm going to tie you to me." Allen threatened, walking beside the boy and slightly ahead so as to lead him.

He headed towards the market, stopping on occasion to re-find Chesslin (who he picked out with little difficulty), stopping once they got to the fringes.

"What you just got through boy, was nothing. There are tones of people, thieves, and scoundrels. You can either grab a hold of this twine," at this he held out an end as an offering, "or you can risk getting lost. If you get lost, and can't find me. We meet here. Got it?"

[Chesslin]

Chesslin, small as he was, had trouble getting safely through the thronging crowds. The noise and smells and sights were all distracting, and several times the city drew his eyes away from Allen, and left the boy floundering hopelessly through the crowds. He would pause where he stood, scanning the throngs, but Allen was too short to be spotted. Usually, it was the dwarf to find Chesslin.

When they finally broke through onto the fringes of the crowd, Chesslin's heart was hammering. His blue eyes had gone a bit... wide, but he was alive, and not panicking. He listened to Allen's words with a new seriousness that went beyond even his previous intensity. After that crowd, if what they were about to head into was worse, he knew he should probably take the twine. He even started to do so, his hand twitching at his side, but in the movement he bumped another type of string.

A shocking buzz ran up his arm, down his spine, to fill his stomach with warmth. Chess paused, feeling the thrumming energy. His magic... how would he ever find the underground if he was tied to Allen. Shaking his head, he let his hand fall limp again.

"I'll meet you here," he agreed, glancing around the square, memorizing the buildings and the atmosphere. He would be able to find it again. Hopefully. "Let's get moving."

[Allen]

Allen saw the hand twitch, then the pause and the look into the distance before the boy's attention snapped back to him. He'd seen that sort of thing before, with some of the mages he'd met before. His chest-hair itched again and inwardly he frowned. Hopefully the boy would know enough to be careful, if Allen's suspicions proved right. Either way, the dwarf kept as close to the boy as he could and remain manly. There were times when he reached up and grabbed the boy, yanking him out of the way of a fast-moving on comer, form of transportation, or flung object meant for some other sod.

Eventually they made their way to the clothing stand, one that Allen preferred and he had a feeling the lad would enjoy as well. The woman was a mage, though she wasn't nearly strong enough to cause the government to worry over her. The most she could do was mend clothing with a lot of time and concentration; but every time she made clothes, with threads guided by her mind, the clothes remained strong, intact and felt as though they were made just for him. The best part of it all was that she was reasonably priced since she just made the cloth in her spare time, or for entertainment, as she'd jokingly put it to Allen.

"Ellinore! Lass, you don't look a day over 20!" Allen greeted her, once more reaching out absent mindedly to yank Chess out of the way of a guard. Nasty people they were, that one in particular. The guard sneered at Allen in return and stomped off, shoving or barking at those in his way. Allen shook his head at the idiot before returning his attention to the seamstress.

"I finally found that model I was telling ya about, th' lad here agreed to it." The woman nodded and eyed Chess. "He does look rather handsome, very nice bone structure. I'm assuming you're here to replace his... clothes...?" She asked, wincing at the state of Chess's worn tunic. Allen nodded. "If ye don't mind, when yer taking measurements, mind doing his boot size as well? He's going to need a new pair of those too." This lad was costing him, Allen knew, but the portraits and whatnot he could produce with a willing model would easily make back the money he'd lost. It seemed that lately, for some odd reason, the aristocrats were taking an interest in young, feminine men. Odd, but Allen didn't really care. The woman agreed and led the two of them back, barking at her assistant to mind the stall, as she pulled a measuring tape from her belt. She did shoe-size first, calling the measurements to Allen as she found them.

"Right then, I'll be off then boy, I'll be back soon. I'd rather you waited here, with Ellinore. If you wander off, I'll be waiting at the spot. You don't pop up before sundown and I'm calling the guard, understood?" When he received something similar to a form of agreement, Allen toddled off to the shoemaker, hands in his pockets and whistling a jaunty tune.

[Chesslin]

Chesslin followed as closely as he could behind Allen, but he was a slender and willowy boy, and fairly easy to knock aside. He was jostled about everywhere, inexperienced with the crowds and the noise. Several times he nearly dropped the dormouse, until he was finally forced to slip the creature into the safety of his pocket. At some point he started to feel like he must have, somehow, made himself invisible. How could all these people not see him and avoid him?! Perhaps that was simply the way life was in the big city.

Perhaps worse than the jolting movements of the shopping throng that surrounded him was the shops themselves. Chesslin had grown up around small, specialized shops with tiny windows and open doors. Here, the scent of fresh-baked sweet bread filled his nose accompanied by the sight of the deep brown rolls laid out on display. Jewelry glittered on stands at the sides of the road, sellers harped their wares to the busy citizens of Marn. Chesslin could never have imagined this. The place had his heart thrumming with excitement and, in many ways, fear.

It was a relief when they finally reached the stand that Allen was aiming for, pulling out of the crowd into the little spot of a clothing stand. It took Chess a moment to catch up. He stood there, eyes a little wild, panting and looking back at the crowd they had just come through. How exactly had he survived that? And why did he desperately want to dive back in...?

His attention was called away when Allen spoke to him. He turned, nodding his agreement to Allen's plan. Privately, he knew that if Allen was not there when he was freed by the seamstress, there was no way he could resist diving into that crowd. He would find the dwarf at their agreed upon meeting place.

Only once Allen had gone did Chess turn to the woman who ran the stand. Ellinore, Allen had called her? A nice name.

“Good morning,” he murmured in his grave young voice.

[Allen]

Ellinore eyed the young, scrawny lad before her. That dwarf had brought the kid to the right person! She returned the greeting as she circled the boy, eying him. She didn't have anything near close to his size... all sold out, bugger it all. She'd have to magic it skinnier...

"Alrigh' kids," she said, her ruffian accent starting to show through, as it did whenever she concentrated, "do ya have any pro'lems with magic?" Might as well get that out of the way first, she mused as she circled him, taking measurements quickly. She was a declared mage, so it wasn't a big deal for her, she just hoped this kid wasn't some purdanye idiot.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Allen stepped from the shoe shop, a new pair of boots in hand. Quickly he slide through the crowd, finding paths in the sea of legs. He made his way to the shop, half wondering if the lad was even still there. He stopped, wove around and decided to grab some hot lunches just in case he was and was likely hungry. That done he also bough a couple of mint-sticks and made his way back to the shop, felling like a kid again himself.

[Chesslin]

Chesslin stood cautiously still as Ellinore worked her way around him, not wanting to mess up any of her measurements by altering his position. Still, curiosity drove him to follow her every movement with his keen blue eyes. There was something about the woman that fascinated Chess. He could not place what it was until she spoke again.

"I've no problem with magic," he answered honestly. He kept it to himself that it would have been very strange if he did. Very strange, indeed. Instead of having a problem the question further spiked Chesslin's curiosity. This woman was a magic user, then? A declared one, if she was using it at her workplace. That was something Chesslin doubted he would ever be. He did not like authority figures breathing down his back, telling him what he could and could not learn.

Somehow, Chesslin managed to suppress his questions while the woman worked. This would not, he suspected, be the last time he saw her, and perhaps the next time he would be practiced enough to recognize the movements of her magic. There was no way he could ever ask her directly, if he wanted to maintain his secret.

With a lack of questions, the sizing went quite quickly. That done, she sent him scurrying out to wait for Allen while she put the clothing together. Chesslin was - almost - disappointed, but he knew staying would have done him no good. Just because his magic worked with weaving did not mean he was good enough to understand what she did. With that in mind, he sat down on her front stoop and waited for his dwarf friend, promising himself that someday he would have her knowledge.

[Allen]

Allen stopped in front of the shop, surprised to say the least, to see the lad sitting there, waiting. Part of him had expected to be told he had left, but hey, means he didn't have to track the lad down. He sat next to the boy, passing him a hot lunch and a peppermint stick.

"Thought ye'd want these." Allen said gruffly as he set the boots down. "These are fer ye as well. Figured those ol' worn ones would be shit to walk in."

[Chesslin]

Chesslin looked up as his dwarven caretaker approached, nodding a solemn greeting. He reached out and took the food when it was offered. To be honest, he was surprised that Allen had done something like this, but it was a pleasant surprise. Chess was hungry after the long day weaving through these unfamiliar crowds.

"Thank you," he murmured. He set the hot meal - it would need to cool a few minutes before it would be edible - and started turning the peppermint stick over between his hands. He had not had much candy in his life, they could not afford it, but this looked good enough. Chesslin looked up again when Allen held out a pair of boots.

Hesitating, he looked down at his own feet. The boots he had brought from the farm were already made of horribly weak fabric, but more than that he had worn them for almost a year on the harsh, uneven streets of Shim. He was surprised there were not more holes in them.

"Thank you," he repeated, taking the boots and setting them down next to his feet. He reached for the ties on his own shoes, undoing them and slipping them off, only to replace them with these new boots. They felt stiff, unfamiliar. He was too used to plain, supple leather for it to be entirely comfortable. He was grateful, though. This way he might get the chance to keep his feet whole on the streets of Marn.

[Allen]

"Yer welcome." Allen mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It was one thing to be soft in his own home, another thing entirely to be nice in public. They sat and ate in silence once the food had cooled. It was delicious, venison stew with vegetables and barley, topped with dumplings. Allen made a mental note to buy from her again as he swiped the inside of his food-dish with his bread crust.

That done and brushing the crumbs from his beard (a manly man is a clean man in his opinion), Allen stood. "So s'there anythin' else ya wanna see?" He gruffed. Clearly a young lad from a small town would have some sites he'd want to see by the days end.

[Chesslin]

Chesslin, too, enjoyed his meal in silence. The food was better than anything the Camere brothers could ever have afforded on their single farmhand's salary. Even the food at the local inn, where Chess had eaten several times in recent years, paled in comparison. He, who usually found little to no interest in food beyond the fact that it kept him alive, ate every bit he could get out of his dish, except a tiny nip of bread. This, he fed into his pocket, where the dormouse remained curled against his hip. The tiny creature took it eagerly.

At Allen's question, Chesslin looked around, rising to stand beside his dwarven companion. He had never really thought about where he might like to go, beyond the underground, where he doubted Allen could - or would - take him. Reaching Marn had been a dream, nothing more, until the previous night, and his sole focus in doing so was to learn.

"I'm not sure," he answered with a shrug, knowing it was unusual for a newcomer not to have some sort of site he would want to visit it. "What else is there to see?"

[Allen]

Allen also shrugged, looked around. "Depends on what yer into boy. I know some nice people who might letcha into their gardens, I know a few who are magic peoples, you seem to like them. Or we can go home and take it easy, letcha get settled and whatnot. Been a busy day for you." Allen commented, not really caring either way.

Allen wasn't one for magic, or for reading people, but it seemed whenever the boy spotted something skin to magic, his own eyes would light up. Vaguely Allen wondered why the boy was so into the damn stuff, all it was was fireballs, shifting crap and stuff to do with the "Astral plane" whatever the fuck THAT was. Allen, as a dwarf, didn't dream, didn't sense magic or the astral plane, so for him, all it was was a couple of words with a description on the tail end of it.

That being said, he couldn't fault the boy for curiosity. Changers knew he had a few questions himself.

[Chesslin]

Allen had spoken the two key words. The two words that should have been forbidden in Chesslin's presence for the sake of his own sanity. Though his expression remained as grave as ever, his glass-like blue eyes brightened at the mention of gardens and magic.

"Can we visit them?" he asked with thinly veiled eagerness. True, it had been a long day, but there was no way he was ready to turn in yet. He reached one hand into his pocket and ran a finger over his dormouse's head. The tiny creature squirmed against his hand, loving the attention. Chesslin began imagining what sort of magic he would be able to discover with a little more experience.