Two of Me
From hot and moist to cold and biting, the weather was doing its best to remind Jinks of some of his more mercurial relationships. The ones he can still remember, at least. The quiet hiss of steam and the low murmur of several scattered, quiet conversations keep even the lonely Tarrace's bathhouse patrons company on this lazy Kesenday evening. The percussive thrum of a lively pub is in the floors, bleeding through from the main hall and reminding any who take the time to notice that not all are ready for good, clean relaxation.
The gnome pads between the empty massage stations running a hand through his loose hair, little bare feet slapping quietly on the floor. He's unusually unadorned, naked but for his immodest, crimson, silken briefs and the clean bandages wrapped over his left breast and shoulder stained a pale peach color by balm. His onyx eyes sparkle in anticipation of the baths to make up for the lack of cut jewels, polished stones, and worked, precious metals.
Behind the gnome, not more than a few moments later than he himself enters, hears the pad-padding of small feet on the floor. Steps not terribly unlike his own. There's a pause, and then the door opens, revealing... Jinks in all of his glory. Or rather someone who looks incredibly alike to Jinks. So much so that for Jinks it is veritably like looking in a mirror. Same red silk briefs, same bandages wrapped over his chest.
This... not-Jinks stops a bit shy of where Jinks is currently standing and offers a low wicked grin. He steps closer to Jinks, eyes running over Jink's small form with his eyes and offering in Jink's own voice a low-pitched greeting. "Hello there..." It sounds... so very like him, and yet the lower pitch of it makes it sound wrong.
Narcissism is the reflex but indignation sparked by plagiarism is soon to follow. Jinks stops admiring not-Jinks mid-stroke of his goatee, frowning in mild confusion and indignation in equal parts. He cocks his head and takes a step to one side, sizing up the doppleganger. "People wouldn't do this to other people," he muses in his native tongue to test the waters. The dialect screams Clockwork Point, all clipped and precise without losing any of the customary Gnomish rapidity of syllables. Not the hillbilly drawl of Happy Valley. "The paladina lacks the magics even if she has the mirthful spirit. Cesran the reverse." He sucks his teeth thoughtfully, quirking an eyebrow after thinking through the small army of acquaintances housed in this city. "Mikilos," he decides.
The not-Jinks strokes his own goatee a moment and then steps /into/ Jinks. Wrapping one arm around Jink's and tapping him firmly on the nose like a dog that has misbehaved. "You lack imagination dearest." In gnomish, in Jink's voice, but... without the accent. No accent at all sounds odd actually. And then the not-Jinks speaks again, this time in trade. "You lack... too much imagination."
The not-Jinks slides the finger from Jink's nose down and then pulls away with a rough wicked laugh. "Come now, surely you haven't entirely forgotten the pleasures and dangers of my court /dearest/." He looks at Jinks now meaningfully.
Jinks is caught between returning the embrace and stepping away, the pleasant fog of the evening's activities so far burning off quickly at some primal response to interpreted danger. He ducks and twists instead, a dance fit for the fanciest of ballroom's. It affords him space but he finds he's still holding the Other's hand at the end of the step. Old habits.
"Rare that I'm ever accused thusly," the gnome attempts to answer casually-- this time in the common tongue-- but the frown has snuck its way into his voice. "And I'm invited into oh so many courts." Perhaps flippancy will help Jinks find his footing. "My talents are in high demand; you might have to jog my memory, dearest."
Jinks is dancing with himself. And flirting, apparently.
The other man arches an eyebrow and takes the lead, as he seems wont to do. Pulling Jinks in with that hand and leading him in a quick two-step to the side. Whoever this Jinks is... they're strong. Very, very strong. Even in such a small body as his is. "Your talents, among other things are indeed what drew you to me, but if I have to jog your memory perhaps my court did not please and frighten you nearly as much as I would hope." The man clasps Jinks very close suddenly and dips Jinks down. Perfect control. "It should haunt your every dream and nightmare, be on the back of your every thought and eye-blink, or... I will have to find some way to remind you better."
Here he pulls Jinks up, sliding his hand up Jink's arm and touching his chest with a placid and yet meaningful touch. It /burns/.
Jinks recoils in the way afforded him being held so and lifts one leg, drawing his knee up towards his sternum and curling his toes. He issues a protracted "Ha" that might be an awkward laugh if it wasn't for the grimace twisting his features. His knuckles whiten to match his dangling hair.
"THOSE dreams..." he finally manages to answer, playing his best at levity even if his body language does little to match it.
"Ah, you /do/ remember." The little man seems quite pleased with this. Pleased enough to suddenly and completely let go of Jinks. Let him stumble or fall as he will. "You've been away too long Jinks... We miss you."
He laughs and it's barely a mockery of Jink's voice. It sounds like someone else entirely. The laughter cuts off after a moment and Jinks stalks toward Jinks. "You're here again for a reason, you walk this plane with a /purpose/, and yet I've seen little in the way of results."
Jinks whuffs when he hits the floor of the baths, coughing and immediately sucking greedily to fill empty lungs. He takes a moment to wince, his left arm crooked and pulled in close, protectively, against his chest. He pants for a few quick heartbeats, his head spinning. "Purpose. Purpose?" The gnome's confusion is genuine. "If your agenda reaches beyond carousing and rutting you've selected a miserable agent." He shakes his head. Slowly. "Perhaps you're after another pseudonym-shrouded gnome. I know an arms dealer that I'm quite certain isn't using his real name."
In one corner of the baths, near the benches, a spot darkens, the shadows coalescing into a darker mass. The effect is momentary and the darkness lightens slightly to match Aya's complexion and attire. Her attention is upon the bench rather than the occupants, at least until a silver ribbon is retrieved from the planks, perhaps left on a recent visit.
Only then does she realized that her company includes a gnear-gnude gnome. Two, even. She turns to note, "Pardon the interruption. I did not mean to..." Her words trail off as she notices that the pair are remarkably, nay exceptionally.. identical? A brow arches.
Jinks stops just a few inches short of Jink's feet. Kicks the little gnome none-to-gently. Not hard enough to really harm Jinks, but enough to be certain that this man is serious. "I am after /you/. And it would give me nothing so much as pleasure to drag you kicking and screaming down the street until we reach Hell." The gleam of red suddenly burning in the not-Jink's eyes is enough to prove that this is certainly /not/ the real gnome. "Doing exactly as I wanted. Making friends. Being inconspicuously /you/, yes."
The words die off at the sound of an arrival, and it seems that the two gnomes /are/ identical. Twins perhaps. The red has died out of this one's eyes, so all Aya sees is the grin that slides across his face as he looks her up and down. "Aya! A pleasure. Come in, come in." He motions for the woman to join them. "I /insist/."
Jinks' eyes are almost-always a solid black. You'd think that seeing them lighten to a glowing red wouldn't be terribly unsettling... but when it's your face? He pulls his feet away, drawing his legs up underneath himself but not standing. Not yet. "I'd venture... being me and inconspicuous would be easier if there was only one of me." He manages a glance past the Other at Aya, offering a subtle shake of his head. Whatever that might mean. He's shivering there on the ground. Maybe the floor is cold; he's not wearing much at all.
Aya looks from one Jinks to the other. One is grinning, managing to loom over the other (even with gnomish stature)... while the other is shivering, shaking head. Not to mention the first is insistent, demanding, and knows her name. Even a gnome wouldn't be that presumptuous... well, perhaps, but the other indications are more than enough for her to put one and one together to make a reasonable hypothesis.
She steps towards the pair, though not exceptionally close to either, and oblique to them to view both. Her arms cross semi-casually before herself. "Dare I even ask?"
The not-Jinks smiles meanly and kneels down, grasping Jinks by his hair and leering at him. "Jinks dearest. You miss my point. I don't want to drag you back. I want you to keep making friends. I want you to live your life. But from now on you'll make friends with those that I /want/ you to make friends with." He looks at Aya and points to the ground. "Kneel Aya. Show Jinks here a little obedience and maybe I won't have to leave him a bloody mess on the floor for you to clean up."
Jinks winces again, lifting a hand to grab feebly at the wrist of the Other. He's not weak-- especially for someone of his size-- but there's still no comparison. "Coyote laughs. Then just tell me who," he whines. "You don't have to make your puppet mul dance to impress me."
Aya's brows start to lift and eyes begin to widen at the demand from Not-Jinks. All the movement halts, however, before whatever reflexive expression forms and it, instead, returns to neutral. Her eyes pan back to Jink as she lowers herself smoothly in a squat until she is kneeling on the floor. Thoughts drift back to a decade past and actions taken then. Displaying what is expected and obedience are not the same. It served her then, it may well now.
He smiles at Jinks, hand turning gentle. Petting the other man now where he'd been so harsh just an instant before. "You want to be my good boy don't you? You are friends with Mikilos yes? You said his name. That's good. Seldan is another. Zeke, the sith-makar, and his mate Cryosanthia. The paladin Serene. Become friendly with as many of them as you can." He caresses Jink's face, ignoring Aya perfectly. "Find even one weakness, just one, and I'll release you from your burden to me. Forever. Easy yes?"
"Serene has no time for me. Never has. You want a lizard? Fine." Jinks is shaking, flinching even at the gentle touch. "The city is filthy with sith." He takes a shuddering breath and glances at Aya, then looks back to the Other and cants his head. Secrets are whispered.
Aya remains as she is, comfortable (at least physically) with her palms resting on her thighs. No omni-present smirk and she is deathly silent. Her eyes remain on Jinks at his response, though as he leans to whisper, her head also tilts, tipping one knife-ear towards.
GAME: Aya rolls perception: (6)+27: 33
The 'man' tilts his ear down to Jinks, and then looks at Aya sharply. "Really. Aya. Go. And Aya? If anyone hears from you that this man works for me? I will kill someone. Someone important to you. Perhaps that pretty boy I saw you with at my Colosseum event?" He rises to his feet. "As for you. A promise /is/ a promise. And so you are free. But should we cross again... Well that'll be another matter won't it?"
Jinks just looks at the floor and waits for the Other to go Away.
Aya blinks. Perhaps at the sudden sharp look and shift in the 'man's’ mood. Her expression then hardens in determination as she rises. "None will hear such from me." She then gives the Jinks staring at the floor a brief stare, before she departs whence she came, leaving a few dissipating wisps of shadow in her wake.
Jinks is left alone then. Because in that moment after Aya vanishes, the other Jinks does as well. Gone. Without moving. Without speaking. Gone. Leaving Jinks with the knowledge of what he's done, and the knowledge of what roams the streets of Alexandria. Waiting for him.
-End