Night Out, Morning In

Log Info

• Title: Night Out, Morning In
• Emitter: Jinks, Cryosanthia
• Characters: Jinks, Cryosanthia, Sabina
• Place: Jinks' apartment, Lower Trades district
• Time: Saturday, November 06, 2021, 3:18 PM
• Summary: Sabina and Cryosanthia are having a last night on the town before leaving Alexandria. They're drinking, the Tsurian alcohol, the Sith'Makar juice, and staggering around as carefree as it's possible to be. They arrive at Jinks' new residence, insist on coming in, to party with him. He's in the process of redecorating and re-sizing the place to suit his size and not tallfolk. The two women enjoy themselves, taking up space and letting their hair down, when Jinks interrupts to make a confession. He set the Demon Duke on Lily. Cryo's happy state immediately vanishes, anger rising to the fore as she grabs Jinks, incensed and on the verge of doing something she'll regret. Sabina intervenes, as does the sith'makar's ancestors as the gnome awaits his fate. Cryo sees moments where her ancestors, and even she, made decisions which altered life's course. Jinks resigns himself, expecting death. Cryo restrains herself, though states she is very angry and this will be an issue. Sabina tries to regain their happy evening and eventually they settle, somewhat. They end up sleeping over, and the morning finds Jinks and Cryosanthia waking early, while Sabina remains out on the chaise lounge. Jinks goes into detail, explaining the how and why he ended up agreeing to sacrifice Lily to the Demon Duke. It's very easy to believe, and typical of the demon, who is ultimately responsible and only giving the illusion of choice on a tilted table. Aya's involvement is discussed further, as well as what might be done to remedy the collateral damage that followed from Jinks' betrayal. He finally admits that Seyardu was correct, he came back from death broken, and much the worse in comparison to his former self. The injury is a shock to Cryo, who has seen a lot of wounds, and it helps her understand the man a little more. Jinks asks her to keep this information secret, and she agrees, requesting he also not burden any of her friends or associates with details regarding her. They have enough on their plate and if they need to know, she's told them already what her plans are.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Jinks        3'4"     39 Lb      Gnome             Male      A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry.
Cryosanthia  6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Sabina       5'4"     130 Lb     Human             Female    Tsuran woman of dark hair and green eyes
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

Lower Trades District

The lower trades district is home to many a shop. An aging gnomish couple runs a jewelers on a corner just off the main road, Elsie and Madze' Fine Cuts and Settings. They own the whole building but have walled- and sold off the upper floor, their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren all with places of their own, now. A recess to the right of the shop's facade hosts the stairs leading up to the apartment so you pass the display window with its foggy glass half-obscuring the glorious, glittering objects on velvet pillows beyond.

The door at the top of the stairs has a brass knocker and knob at smallperson height but is of a 'normal' height for tallmen.

'We should have a little fun and a night out before I go', Cryosanthia had suggested to Sabina, although the lizard woman's concept of a night out and fun was a little off. To avoid reminding her friend of her recently closed restaurant, she had decided to avoid all restaurants and bars. The other girlfriends weren't collected, although enough wine for them was, and with Cryo only drinking grape juice it turned into wandering the lower trades district looking for Jinks' new place with a slightly sloshed ex-publican in tow.

There were some fun songs, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, and some staggering random-walks, with the whitescale acting the part of being drunk rather than pickling herself and her eggs. Loud enough to get the neighbours noticing and at least one conversation: 'Yess osssiferr Friendliess we'll be goossh. Home issssh overssss sssshere', with the local constabulary.

Thus, somehow, the pair have navigated the Lower Trades, past the glittering shop windows and up the stairs. The white lizard leans against the door frame and door, cradling some bottles and the Tarienite, and knocks. She only sounds slightly slurred, "Jiiinkssss come outs. Let usss in. We have hearthsswarming giftss and want to see your plaace."

The maskless Sabina chortles as they stumble up the steps and to the smaller door. "Who? Oh! Jinks!" She knocks repeatedly at the lower part of the door. "Drinksy! Drinksy! Come on, Drinksy! Don't keep Cryosanthia and myself out here all night. I'll have to sing badly and off key all night till you open the door!"

It takes a moment but the door opens, revealing a shallow entryway and Jinks holding his dancing, multi-colored motes of light and sporting a trepidatious look on his face. His shirt is unbuttoned down to just above his raisin-colored vest and his sleeves rolled up and his face looks inexplicably off until you realize he doesn't wear a single piece of jewelry. His pants are of a comfortable fit an he has house slippers on.

The entryway and short hall walls are draped with tarps, the floorboards covered as well. A small wooden cage near the door contains something that scrabbles and chitters at the new arrivals. "This is unexpected," he admits, blinking and managing to put on a faint smile, pulling the door all the way open and motioning inside.

"The sitting room isn't put together... but there's a bench. Straight ahead, can't miss it."

A door to your immediate left as you enter is likely a closet. A candle glows at the end of the run, almost certainly from the mentioned sitting room.

Is it a dream or a nightmare when two ladies twice your size show up and fill the doorspace, looming with an alcoholic aura surrounding them. "Oh it's your mongoose!" Cryo says happily, noticing the scrabbling box, "He's got a mongoose Sabina, to help him clean up the place."

"They'll steal eggs, you know," She adds, sounding cheerful about that little fact. They don't steal sith'makar eggs it would seem.

The whitescale wobbles her head a little, continues to support Sabina as she moves down the corridor, glancing at the tarps. "Benches are great."

She finds it, sweeps her tail across the surface then sits on one end directly above the legs. She pats beside her for Sabina and grins at the gnome. She sorts through the bottles she's carrying, pulls out one with a ribbon and holds it out towards him. "Hearthsswarming. You were right it needed some renovation."

Bina giggles as she takes a look around the place and then finds herself sitting on a bench next to Cryo. She blink and then hmms as Cryo hands over the ribbon. She Ah!'s and reaches into her slung bag and pulls out two bottles of wine. Of pretty decent lineage and offers them to Jinks. "Happy home-warmingling, Drinksy. I hope you've had a fun time making this place your own."

The sitting room is the majorit of the floor, opening out to your left shortly passing the closet. Two pair of tall windows interrupt the walls straight ahead and to your left, two doors evenly spaced beyond the foyer on your right. The windows are open and let the chill in along with the sound of the evening's deluge and enough wind to make the candle flicker furtively. There's a subtle must of unused space and the tarps continue to obscure most of the walls-- though faded wallpapers peek through in places, peeling mildly at the edges. One corner hosts a pile of the dust cloths that have been kicked away from the center of the floor. A table (end- for tallmen, dinner- for gnomes) provides host for the candle, an open bottle, and a single glass. There's a chair, too, a darkwood that doesn't match the color or style of the table. The 'bench' is a chaise lounge upholstered in a fading, emerald velvet and big enough to sit Sith and Tsura. A pillow and a blanket reveal it's been pulling double-duty as a bed as the gnome sorts furnishing the place.

Two steamer trunks sit against the wall between the bedroom doors, large enough that you'd venture Jinks couldn't lift them himself. One sits open and sifted-through, a pair of plaques atop piled clothes.

The sound of the door closing and bolt sliding into place precede Jinks' arrival in the room. He looks between the two ladies from the edge of the foyer for a long moment before joining them and accepting one gift and then the others. "Huh," he allows, considering the labels and moving them to the tabletop. It's quite busy there, now.

"Thanks. You really didn't have to."

Cryosanthia looks around, examining the furniture, the window, the trunks. She wiggles a bit, repositioning herself on the chaise lounge, her tail hanging off the end and her knees tucked in together so she has some support when she curls forward. She has a large bottle she takes another sip from.

"This one knows you are fixing the place up, but all those tarps and trunks, you could be hiding murders and bodies." She speculates, then asks, "There wasn't a crime here and that's why you got it so cheap, was there? Anyhow, I wanted to see it, and it's a nice place." She bobs her head, "Even if that closet is a little creepy."

Bina giggles again and nudges Cryo. "Bodies..*snort* ..Can you see Jinks pulling bodies around and stuffing them into odd places? Not unless they were small sized!" She then looks to HJinks and waves the notion away. "My pleasure to gift wine to someone that will enjoy it. And I'll be looking for a new place soon enough. Outside the siity..city. Soon.. Yup."

"They wanted to sell to People and not rent." Jinks picks up his glass and turns away from the bottles on the table, looking between Sabina and Cryosanthia. "The bedroom and workspace are split-level; it'd be uncomfortable for tallmen." He looks around at the tarps and shrugs, "So it's been empty and closed-up. Like a mausoleum, I suppose. To your point."

The draft doesn't help the vibe, either. There's a pot bellied stove near the wall, open and half-full of wood but unlit. Some tinder abandoned on the floor.

"You're still leaving?" The gnome asks Sabina, tilting his head. "And you're gone soon, too." He tells Cryosanthia. The muscles in his jaw flex. He drains his glass. "Hm."

"Mmmmhmmm." Cryo says, curled forward now, forarms casually on her knees, disguising but not hiding the swell that is causing her to go, "I've got everything packed up, a few things on order. I've got a scrying bowl, maybe I'll check in on you."

She pauses to take a drink from her bottle. The breeze shifts, there's a cool draft in the room, perhaps its her. In the hallway the scratching from the mongoose box breaks the silence, before the whitescale adds some more explanation. "She is, looking into the local towns, or at a good spot along the road to set up something similar. A spa, with food. We all need a good soak and drink now and then."

Her tail curls up, to wrap around over Sabina's hip and give her a secondary hug. A strong, heavy, scaled one delivered with the imprecise control Cryo has over that appendage. She wiggles fingers towards Jinks, as if casting but not, "So what was it you were going to tell me? Was it in that scroll? I didn't read it. I figured it was an invitation and..." She looks at Sabina, grins and giggles, the back at Jinks, "... and we found our way here anyhow."

She has a very large maw, when she smiles like that. So many teeth.

Bina finds herself with a hugging tail and grins. "Ooo.. scaled hip-scarf! I shall be all the rage where ever I am going off too! The envy of every traveler and clothing expertss..expert across the land!" She pats Cryo's tail and then nodsto Jinks. "I'm still 'tainted'. You know, unwilling to give in all the way to my elders demands. Being the spiteful brat."

Jinks finishes the last of the glass with his eyes closed. He sets it down on the table and walks over to stand in front of Cryosanthia. He pulls down at his vest and takes a long, slow breath in. An uninvited shiver plays across his trim, gnomish frame.

"I sent the Duke after Lily. What happened to her was my fault. Aya and Daechir, too." He says, managing to keep his voice steady and force his way through the words. Somehow even managing to look the sith-makar in the eyes as he speaks.

Cryo hums a little, as Sabina hugs her tail and leans in to rock hips with her. She takes being referred to as clothing well. It's not a serious thing. She 'sniffs' at Sabina, as if to check for corrupt smells, in a teasing way that is interrupted as Jinks steps in front of her.

She rises a little, he seems so formal. His strange behaviour has her attention. It's the rare case of the reptile being mesmerized by the mammal, her eyes are locked with his as the gnome speaks.

"What?"

There's a shattering and a splash. The bottle is crushed in her hand, glass falls to the ground, with clear juice and vibrant blood. Her pupils spread, from slits to wide, endless pools of dark. Her patterns glow, as if a light was switched on inside and she was some novelty lampshade. A woman full of cracks, a woman full of magic, that begins to escape. The scales on her throat illuminate with power growing behind her. She has a draconic heritage, she has a breath weapon.

Yet when she picks up Jinks and lifts him close, what comes out of her mouth is a single word. "Why?"

The room is suddenly a lot colder.

Bina shivers and then sighs, head lolling to one side. She glances at the spilt booze and then at Cryo and Jinks who are suddenly having an intense conversation. "You two know how to kill a mood, you know." She scoots forward and wraps one arm about Cryo and the other about the held Jinks. "Silly Drinksy. I thought you'd done this a month ago. And..ya knows.. know.. no? ..no, know.. that there was only two choices given to you. Right? Isn't that what you told me? hmmmm?" She rest her flushed face against the side of Cryo's scaled face, soaking up the cool and closing her eyes. "And Lily's safe now.."

There's a flinch and a shout from the gnome when Cryosanthia pounces. Even knowing it was coming and doing his best to brace for it Jinks doesn't manage to suppress the natural reaction. He holds her wrists in his small hands, wincing and squirming. "He sent me here... It's how I came back from the Hells.

"I didn't know. And then he found me in the baths. He was going to take me back..." Jinks slips and adjusts his grip, choking and trying to look past the snout and all of the teeth to find the sith's eyes again. "I had his mark. He wanted to break you. I just... Tried to warn you. I was a coward."

Her friend moves against her, warm and soft, smelling of compassion. Not corruption. Her hands tighten on the gnome, her cuts leaking into the bandages covering his wounds, the ones that never healed. The wounds that finished him and even now stay wet, and mix with hers.

She feels the bottom drop out, again. The sensation of falling, a roller-coaster, again. Her eyes are at the other end of a tapered snout, full of scales and hard muscles and little expression. Her pupils have gone wide, her hum has switched to one of distress. Her youngling was threatened her youngling is safe. She had to kill her foundling her mate did instead. She freezes and packs these feelings away into a giant iceberg she's never able to shrink. It grows larger and groans. She groans. Helpless and angry with a target in front of her.

Cryosanthia glows with magic, through symbols on her hide and the patterns enhanced by the Sea. Her natural talents enhanced by her blood and connection to her ancestors and her time in the Sea. She struggles with the revelation, her reaction, and all the feelings that come with it.

Her ancestors step in.

The magic leaking from her shares them with her friends.

"Kill it. It's life is short and meaningless. It is a waste of your energy."

A young dragon sits on her haunches, holding in her taloned hands something small, warm, and wet. A much larger, older, white dame of a dragon looms and advises her child. Her features are rough, heavy from the solid skull beneath, but there is a similarity in the grey-not-blue gem-like eyes and the heavy horns that crown her head. She is a distant forebearer of the white-scaled sith'makar.

The thing squirms in the young dragon's grip. Something simian or simian-like, a mammal, unusual in that it is covered in the furs of another, makes noises that sound almost like speech. It carried with it objects that served no immediate purpose, such as food, but which rather seemed to be evidence of thought. It might be more than just an animal.

"You don't need a pet." She will have none. In her long life the white dragon will rule efficiently over her frozen domain. She will have a mate and her solitude, but no equals. She will have rivals but no friends. She will die of old age, alone, her offspring scattered and successful. A satisfying existence, without sentimentality or melancholy.

Why are my hands bloody?

There's a difference, a sensation, the subconscious knowledge of being male. The senses are assailed with the scents of females, of panic and fear, of blood. Mixed and overlaid, the scents of glorious triumph, males in rage and violence, hoots and roars of eager victory, the aggressive hissing of battle.

All the females lie dead, torn apart by the claws and blades of the aggressors, felled defending their nests. Dismembered, laid open, eyes wide and black they gasp with dying breaths as blood pumps out, spraying hot on the ground, splashing over the vulnerable ovoids clustered together.

"Crush them brother! Their tribe will never threaten ours again." A warrior shouts gleefully, legs slick, stomping as the other males do. The fragrance of yolk and foetal fluids thick in the air, the fragments of shells and unborn on scales.

I raise my foot and bring it down, feeling the shells burst and the splatter of tiny bodies. Again, again, their broken forms are all around me, the nest is ruined. Hatchings, unhatched, in pieces. This is all I see. I will sire my own, but will never forget this moment, never hold mine without remembering this deed.

Why are my hands bloody?

"Don't you feel anything?" Cryo asks. A younger Cryo, in her fifties. Her horns half their current size, her form still lean but adding bulk of muscles and losing the easy flexibility of her youth. She will work to keep it, as her juvenile traits fade and her body alters and is altered by her mistress.

"No my pet." Salina says, with neutral indifference. Laid out on the table before the slight sylvain form of the Fey Queen is a dissected Sith'makar. It could just as easily be an oruch, a human. A gnome. Her mistress is interested in the similarities across forms, the convergence of biologies directly and indirectly related. Her latest victim was strapped down and died screaming, vivisected, then cut to further pieces as she followed her curiosity.

Cryo was forced to watch in horror and silence. She has seen hundreds, thousands, rendered this way. It is her job to clean up her mistress's messes. To make no noise.

She spoke. This must be corrected. "Up, pet. It's your turn now."

We will remember this for you, "Yes, Mistress. Thank you Mistress."

Why are my hands bloody?

A Makari woman stands there, another progenitor. She is shorter, bulkier, her scales are a mixture of greys, light and dark, with some black and red markings that are similar to the whitescale's. She is older, with the horns of centuries, weighty scale plates and firm spines. Her voice is similar, her draconic precise, without wild extravagance.

"We are the sum of all who have come before us. A long, unbroken chain reaching back to the conception of creation. You forge within you the next link of that chain, Cryosanthia. In each life there is one regret which changed its course. You are part of that legacy. We all suffer the decisions of our ancestors and your unhatched with thrive or strive because of the choices you make."

"You stand between two worlds, the stoic traditions of the people and the experimentation of outsiders, with the very fabric of reality altering around you while time surges like a river changing course. You have acted in ways your ancestors do not approve, nor understand. We can't. We can only advise how you should navigate a world full of more tribes than we could imagine."

She steps forward, laying a heavily scaled hand with great knuckles on Cryosanthia's chest, claws pressing over her throbbing heart. "Think of who you would be and how you will forge ahead, Egg of my Egg. Choose wisely."

Why are my hands bloody?

Cryo seems frozen in place. Hands dripping blood and gripping hold of the gnome in her hands. Blood splats to the floor of Jinks' new abode and Bina opens her eyes.

She meet's Jink's somewhat steady gaze as he awaits punishment from the wrath of a dragon-kin and another sigh escapes her. "Cryosanthia? Cryo...Smell him. Smell what his emotions are. I know you do that with me every now and again, right? Think of why he would tell you. He didn't have too, you know. But he did." Her face remains pressed to the white sith's while she remains calm. Perhaps a touch sad.

Jinks shakes, blinking, scared, and crying. All pretense of his bon vivant carelessness abandoned for fear and contrition. It's there the connection is made; all the stolen glances since Lily's return. The unnecessary, tortured apologies and rapid, unprovoked retreats. "Do it if you have to. It's my fault. Just tell the Harpist... don't let Her send me back to the Duke's court, please. I'm so sorry."

She had a human foundling, a very unusual bond for a sith'makar to develop. She was conditioned to kill him, and it drove a spike in her sanity which may have recovered but which left a crack and a lot of guilt. And unfocused anger that does mix well with some responsible in her grasp.

Someone, as Faranmidahn could attest to, who resembles in height and weight that foundling she would die to protect. And couldn't. Her brutality clashes with her nurturing, a war of emotions.

She is just barely still in control, but the seas are high and the boat is small, and the storm tears away words before they're barely heard. Lily is okay. I'm so sorry.

It's okay, it's over, can only do so much at the tiller. The tiny ship is tossed.

A gust, from trusted friends nearly sinks her. An unexpected parting of the clouds save her.

The white lizard's warble gets louder. It is a painful moan, of loss, of fear of what she might have done, her distress at crumbling again and being swept away.

Cryosanthia pulls Jinks against her chest and hugs him. She is hard, and cold, with the noises she's making suggesting she's anything but. "I'm sorry Jinks, I'm sorry. I'm so angry at you. I'm sorry... I'm not... I'm not..."

Not a murderer. Not a bad person, but one who realizes how close she came. "I hurt you."

Bina's smile returns, one she wears a lot recently. The pretty smile with sadness tinged in it and her eyes. She nods slowly as Cryo returns back, enough, to herself and hugs Jinks. The arms that were across each person are now wrapped about them as if hugging them from the outside.

She murmurs a prayer to Tarien, "Oh my Lord of happiness and learning. Soothe the hurts here and help heal the harms of the present and past."

The silvery light of healing bursts from the Tarienite and washes over them all. Wounds close. But emotions aren't something that can be healed so fast or easily.

"You are Cryosanthia. Mother and friend. He is Jinks. Scamp and follower of Tarien." She says softly in response to Cryo's unended sentence.

Jinks is quiet a long time, limp in the sith-makar's embrace with his eyes closed. Incredulity and relief-- both in equal measure-- overwhelm the gnome. He'd resigned himself to die at the end of this conversation; it seemed a more than just reprisal. Yet more proof that, occasionally, Coyote laughs with you.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Cryosanthia. Not to me," the gnome finally manages, letting his fist fall open and his palm rest flat against her chest. "I know why you're mad and I can't blame you. You've shown me nothing but kindness..." He has more to say but his voice hitches and he just shakes his head mildly.

She is not letting go of Jinks, and while her pained noises have gotten quieter, she still makes them and they are interrupted by her rough breathing. She is a tower of ice, and with a wry laugh she loops her left hand through arcane gestures and casts endure Cryosanthia, otherwise known as endure elements.

"He pretends there's a choice but there's no choice. There's no escape and he's always there, laughing." Her voice is rough, broken by her breathing. There is frost on the lounge, on her clothes, building the crystaline fuzz of tiny ice trees on her scales. She can feel the gnome's hands on her chest, her tail around Sabina, the weight on her stomach. A mother and friend, who must be strong for both. Jinks is responsible, but not ultimately responsible, and this was engineered to make her do something she'd regret.

Just as it was the time before.

"It's okay Jinks, it's okay. I'm sorry." Her voice crackles, the shuddering of her body racking her again. "this one is not a danger. This one is not."

Bina has to move, the side of her face is numb now. She eases away from the cold scale and instead uses her fingers to stroke over Cryo's spine and the other to rub Jinks' back. Both these actions are brief before she stands and steps unsteadily away.

A cantrip is cast, and she works on cleaning the spilt liquid and glass in quiet thought. Then glass shards are placed in a likely trash spot before she looks back apon the pair.

"I used to be a better Person," Jinks admits quietly. "Seyardu was right; I came back broken, always angry and afraid. Things had changed so much and I remembered so little. I made every bad choice. Treated everyone with so much cruelty..."

The gnome pauses, turns his head to consider Sabina with one red-rimmed, solid-black eye. "They're wrong about you. The Tarrace is one of the only places I ever felt safe in this city-- even after the Duke tried to spoil it. Them driving you out... it's a mistake."

Cryosanthia nods as well, holding onto Jinks, her arms wrapped around him. With her spell neutralizing her cold, there is some comfort to the embrace. The sith'makar is calming, her ferocious aspects are harnessed towards productive ends once more. "You can be a better person again."

She raises her head, following his look at Sabina. Her eyes are still dark from wide pupils, but the crescents of blue are showing at the edges. She's calmer, on her way back. "He's right. I loved it there, helping out with the books and on the stage. They made a horrible mistake."

Cryo lowers her head protectively over Jinks, "driving us apart. Driving us out. It plays into his plans. He is everywhere so much I suspect even my friends are him when they say terrible things, when they are trying to... I don't know."

Break through the ice, make the whitescale realize a point, except it never works doing it that way. Cryo examines her hands, for the cuts she felt that are no longer there, then she examines Jinks, his chest and his bandage. "You shouldn't have come back broken."

"I'm sorry Sabina, this wasn't the happy outing I sold you on."

Bina chuckles and shakes her head. "Things are as they are. I still have my life and my freedom. I still have my friends. I still have my link to Rupi even though they do not want me to have it. I still have my faith and my love for Tarien. I am rich beyond their measure and I will grow far richer then they can comprehend." She grins and shrugs. "They are trying to do the right thing. The fact that it is driven by fear is somewhat lost on them."

"My fault, again," Jinks says, again, to dismiss Cryosanthia's apology to Sabina. "I didn't mean for it to take this long. You deserved to know but I couldn't find the right moment. You were upset after staying at the temple and I didn't want to make it worse. Then you always had Lily. I didn't want it to be in public where you'd be arrested if..." If she'd killed him. It was also easy to find excuses to put off facing the repercussions of your own actions.

The gnome flinches away when Cryosanthia reaches for his chest, one arm folding in and over his vest and shirt protectively. "Please, don't." Modesty from the immodest.

"If you'd consider it..." Jinks turns again to Sabina. "That is to say: if you'd have someone keep after the place until you can return, I still have funds. A sublet? Or just someone to help while you step away. It's too nice a place to leave to rot..."

"'Bina, you're handling it a whole lot better than this one, and I haven't been drinking." Cryosanthia says with a short laugh, "I'm feeling like going home and abusing calm emotions."

She slowly strokes Jinks' back, it felt nice when it was done to her. He makes for a good stand-in, her maternal instincts, her best ones, are on the rise. She listens to his reasons or excuses, can't fault them.

The danger of losing control in these city streets very apparent to her now.

She relents in searching with her fingers when the gnome folds his arm over his chest. "I don't hate you, but I am very angry, and while I can understand it doesn't make my feelings go away. It might be best if you stay away, until... I don't know. I'll be more aggressive on my nest, I've seen it. I don't know..."

If you'll scent friend or foe.

Although Cryosanthia can feels the eyes of a little white dragon on her, herself or her ancestor, staring with a look, c'mon. You know.

"It's not a bad idea, Sabina, swapping out Tarienites. Let him mind the Tarrace until we return, when the world and our ties let us."

Bina nods slowly. "I've.. had some practice still trying to think while drunk. As far as the Tarrace goes.. Irshya will be taking it over. You can certainly inquire with her, taking over the Tarienite part of the trio may appeal to her. She's stubborn, and bitey but..a very good person and solid in wisdom and heart."

She moves over and hugs the pair again. "It will be well. In the end, if we work at it, it will be well."

The morning after.

The logical conclusion to two party girls showing up late at night, drinking, is waking up next morning with them spread around the room. Sabina claimed the chaise lounge and was unmovable and Cryosanthia curled up in the closet, half in, half out, using the walls like the edge of a nest.

If one wonders what sleeping near a dragon is like, the white scaled Sith'makar is a good simulation. Even in the way one eye flicks fully open and the slit pupil orients then stares at the source of an unexpected noise.

It's not exactly morning but it'll do. The gnome has never been an early-riser and the two ladies had their share of fun the night before. It's the sort of thing you don't bounce out of bed at the crack of dawn after.

Jinks crouches in front of the stove, loose hair dangling in a tangle as he tips his head to blow into the newborn fire. Something in the tinder snaps and cracks and the light blooms before a quiet squeak accompanies the hatch closing. He wears the shirt and pants from last night, the same tall socks and slippers, but the vest has been exchanged for a house robe that looks entirely too posh surrounded by a large, empty room in need of renovations.

The mongoose isn't in the hall near the entryway closet and front door anymore. Jinks moved the anxious, caged creature the night before to give the sith-makar some space. It titters quietly from behind a closed door to one of the side rooms.

The rain has stopped and the sky is a brilliant, cloudless cyan muddied by the dirty windows. All but one were closed, the last left ajar to keep the worst of the must from accumulating through the night. It's left the apartment chill and, hopefully, the stove will do something to counter that shortly.

Cryo's other eye opens and she comes fully awake. This is accompanied by a strong inhale and a long exhale, adding to the chill of the room. She uncoils and crawls out of the closet on all fours, wearing some sort of large, impractically large suit that seems made of blankets. She concentrates for a moment and the clothes switch to a loose robe. She was using her AnyGarment sleeves to add some padding around herself to make a nest.

"Good morning Jinks." The whitescale yawns, her nose pointing at the gnome, her lower jaw hanging down and looking quite long in this perspective. "I feel better. Thanks for letting me stay over. Hope we didn't crowd you too much."

"I didn't hear the rats last night... so the bedroom is fine. And I've slept on worse floors." Jinks glances at Sabina, then Cryosanthia. He rests the back of his hand against the metal of the stove for a moment, feeling the warmth start to bleed through before he stands. Standing, he'll adjust the robe and cinch the soft fabric of the belt tighter, eyes fluttering as he stifles a yawn of his own.

"I've no food here. Madze likes to invite me down for the morning meal but he and Elsie said they'd be busy with something Eliday-- today." The gnome turns and looks around the common room, as if he were wondering about some forgotten meal he'd left under the tarps thrown across the floors. Finally, he takes a step and turns to look the other way. "Hair of the dog?" He asks with a half-awake smile, nodding at the bottles left on the small table.

The whitescale shakes her head, "I finished my juice and must avoid alcohol. This one would enjoy some water if you have it." She glances at the sleeping Tarienite, "She might want some when she rouses."

She exhales, "She deserved better."

Cryo arches her back, but remains on all fours, oddly reminiscent of her other form. Her head is still higher than the gnomes, but it's closer to being on his level. She finishes her stretch and stays crouched in the hall.

She continues to watch Sabina, "I should get back soon. I don't want everyone to worry. Although Mikilos and Braelnoir might expect a morning return."

"If you need to leave, she can stay until she's ready to go." Jinks says, glancing at the chaise, too. "I've fallen asleep enough times in her home... and that was much nicer than this."

Pausing, the gnome turns and frowns. Water? The bottles on the table aren't, surely. A look to the windows-- it WAS raining last night-- and then a light comes on. He pads across the floor to the second not-a-closet door and disappears inside. There's a quiet clatter and then some sloshing, then the gnome returns with a rope-wrapped amphora as tall as him. He holds it by a long hand over his shoulder, leaning forward to carry the weight on his back.

"It's meant to be my bath water but it's clean and cold." He crosses back to the table and crouches, letting the tapered bottom rest on the floor before he twists around. "You'll have to pour your own. I can get this in a bath but not a glass."

It's not exactly what you'd have in mind. He's unprepared but he's trying. There might be some kind of metaphor here.

Cryosanthia takes the amphora, sitting her hindquarters... no, she's a biped, simply sitting on the ground and leaning against the wall with one shoulder. She keeps the amphora balanced on its pointed end. "Drinking your bath water mmmm? At least its before you used it."

She glances down the end of the jug, to ensure no bugs or birds have made their way in. It does tend to affect the taste. It seems safe, and she lifts it with both hands to take several long and loud gulps. A visible bulge pulsing through her throat as she does.

Setting the jug back down she runs her hand over her face scales. "Her place is much nicer." She exhales, stares at the floor by the gnome's feet, "It's still there but I'm a lot less mad. Thanks for telling me."

Her lips twitch, "Sorry for mishandling you. It's unfair bullying."

Jinks sighs and shrugs. "I'd resigned myself to worse," he admits, thinking through the words as he says them. "Not because I think you're a monster or unhinged..." the gnome is quick to add, "it just seemed justified. Only fair that what I did would end with mine."

"At first I thought I could be clever when he appeared. But then he held me and he touched it; suddenly, I was back in that place." A deep breath, a sigh, and he folds his hands into fists. "It'd been in my dreams. I rarely slept and now it found me waking." He's undone the robe and opened his shirt, shrugged out of both. The bandages are loose, crusting after a day's wear. A half-shrug and toying pulls them away and there's the scar, the mended tear of flesh over his heart mirrored on his back between spine and shoulder. The whole corner of his trunk is a lighter shade.

The worst of the black veins have lessened and withdrawn but there's still a core there. A knot of puckered blight and a single, branching vein that crawls across his breast and up, towards his neck.

"It's getting better... but," he swallows, shakes his head. Even for a gnome he seems supremely small with the wound revealed.

The whitescale listens to the gnome's explanation, nodding at the appropriate moments. Saying, "Thank you for not thinking of me as a monster," without interrupting. She's not following, fully, until he opens his robe and shows his bandages, and then pulls them away.

Her pupils pulse, a heartbeat visible in them as they swell then shrink. There's a jolt of her head, shock, in her words, and unparalleled sympathy. "Oh my scales! Oh Jinks, it goes all the way through. You must be in terrible pain, all the time." She stares, at the thick branching vein, the pulse of life in it. "Oh Jinks."

She closes her eyes, lowers her snout, her head shaking, "this one is not evil, though I have swum in much. I should not have held you the way I did. I take no joy in seeing suffering and... you have been through a lot. Merek has told me of his experiences, and I can't imagine how you endure..."

Her eyes open, he is so small, so much in need of protection. "Does it... demean you to be held by one larger? Faran tolerates it more than she enjoys it, I expect. She knows... this one likes to embrace."

Jinks shakes his head, wrapping his arms across his torso and hugging his own shoulders. "Halani is the only other one who's seen it outside of the Luckbringers and the witch." He leaves the small pile of clothes on the floor and walks back towards the stove, falling down to sit cross-legged. Well within the greatest heat.

He's almost perfect; the bare flesh of the gnome is just shy the chiseled marble of a statue. His ribs are faint on his flank, his tummy smooth but not bulging. The scar spoils it all; a statue of some bygone, halcyon era. Only smashed and rebuilt. The blighted mark is a cruel joke. A singular shame. Raw and scabbed near his sternum.

"I remember the mists. Alexandria was lost in them. We came back..." In come his heels, his knees rise up close to his shoulders. "I don't remember what did this... How it happened." He sighs, uncrossing his arms long enough to fold them around his legs and rest his head on his knees.

"It's not an excuse. Maybe it is." Jinks hugs his own legs, considers the ground. "I just want you to know that I'm trying..."

Cryosanthia rocks forward, then crawls towards the gnome, on two feet and a hand with the other bringing the amphora along as well as using it like a fat walking stick. It sloshes with half a water load.

She halts at the edge of the heat, not because it bothers her. It's more a border. Closer the cold she brings will cancel it, she will be too large. There will be the sensation of crowding Jinks in his own place. She sits again, crouched in a tripod of legs and tail.

"This one sees." The snow sith says, "remembering... everything, is not always for the best. This one heard of the mists, even in Am'shere."

Her eyes roam over him, examining the ruined perfection. Feeling a twinge, at the blighted mark, at the sensation of something once noble, discarded and destroyed. Somewhat randomly, she says, "My wings are large."

Jinks shivers at a gust from the window, goosepimples sprouting across his exposed flesh. He sighs, leaning to grab up the robe and slide back into it, his legs folding down on the floor. "I just don't want this part to be me," he admits, two fingers resting over his heart. Right over the black knot. "Not all of me."

"I squandered so much in my first life. So bitter in my second." The gnome smiles faintly, looking across to the sith. "Falling into the Duke's shadow and dying again. That's the joke; giving up the innocent and still falling in his wake. Third time's the charm?"

He pauses, rubbing at his chest in silence. "I've seen the best version of me in the Weave. His hair is still scarlet. His eyes are turquoise. The things he's accomplished..." To hear it seems right; the shock white hair is odd, solid-black, onyx eyes moreso. Gnomes are colorful yet here sits Jinks.

"Is it too late, Cryosanthia?" He wonders, wistful. He stands, then, and moves towards the table for a drink.

Cryosanthia adjusts so she's sitting fully on the ground, not crouched. Her tail is straight out behind, her legs folded in front, heels tucked in. She has a robe of white velvet, which keeps her chill in somewhat. She's large enough with the eggs she's carrying it's hard to ignore, though it isn't the only thing about her. The edges of her mouth curls.

"I saw so many versions of myself. Reflections and variations, when we went to that valley. I could tell by their ages and the markings on their hides, which mistakes of mine they had made, and which they hadn't." The white sith'makari woman admits, reaching up to a small bag around her neck. She opens it, shakes a number of scales into her palm. Seven. "These are clutch-mates, that died because they listened to me, because I argued an empathy must exist in the Charnese."

Her head dips, "this one has been striving to undo that mistake for eighty five years. It was my first, and not my last."

She sets the scales on the floor, staring at them, "there were nine, before. I brought one back, one came back on his own. It's never too late Jinks. It's never too late."

Jinks stands at the table, listening while he looks at the bottles. He has a glass. No shortage of choices. It's so easy to crawl into one and dull the feelings or forget the mistakes. At least for a few, blissful minutes. Fuzzy, fleeting happiness. "I had everything at my fingertips. Pissed it all away."

Down he sets the bottle. An unopened gift left for a later date. He passes out of sight, the sound of quiet clattering from the trunks behind Cryosanthia before he's standing in front of the sith again. A commendation clatters down, the Engineer's Enclave. The wood is darker where a nameplate is missing, two small, empty screw-holes flank it. Then another. More esoteric. The Esteemed Arcanist Cabals of Clockwork Point. The nameplate has also been removed.

"That's all I have left of my home." His chin is tucked as he looks at the two anonymous awards. "My family."

Then he's crouching down, arms folded over his stomach as he looks at the sith. "Daechir is dead. Aya is lost to the Duke. How do I fix this?" He wonders.

"You can't." She says brutally, easing the scales back into the pouch and replacing it around her neck. There is an obvious failing of that momento, she has no way to remember the non-scaled she knows. An oversight, but not a deliberate one.

"Enough funds would buy a ritual to bring back Daechir, if his soul is strong enough and he's willing." Cryo exhales, "This one has been present at enough re-awakenings."

"Aya... is harder." She folds her hands across her stomach, mirroring the gnome, gazing back at him with gem-like eyes. Cold, hard, faceted, and beautiful, alien and open. "Kill the Duke and there are options. Interfere with his toy, like try to put her in the arcanist dungeons, he is liable to pop right out of her."

"Engage him, and she will come at his call and destroy the group attacking him. I don't know how to re-arrange that puzzle so we win. I can stop either of them teleporting away, that doesn't help much." The white-scaled woman inhales, the exhales, "and this one risks her future nest if I fight. I don't want to hide behind my eggs but I put more lives on the line now. I have to trust that Cesran will find something that allows him to prevail, with the Silverguards' help, or whatever endeavor the Temples undertake will end him."

Jinks sighs again, rocking on his heels as he considers the placards. He mutters, quietly, lyrical and accented when he translates from his native Gnomish. "I kneel and pluck the lily, for it's a pretty thing. I give the lily as a gift to satisfy a King. The lily wilts and turns to rot taken from its home. The forest lillies bloom and grow never knowing gnomes."

Jinks sniffs, pushing the heel of one palm into his eye. "I ran to Coyote's house when the Duke vanished. As soon as someone could find Halani I sent her to the Tarrace to warn you. You were across the fucking courtyard the whole time-- at the other temple but I didn't know..."

"If I can ever do anything for you-- or for Lily... just tell me, please." The gnome considers the floorboards, nodding his head again. "I just... please don't tell anyone."

"I was in the Tarrace." Cryosanthia says, "Sabina found me in the canyon. Zeke and Cesran thought I was in Am'shere. I moved to Daeus' after... after."

She exhales, traces her arcane mark on the floor and almost makes it permanent.

"Mine's gone too. The village I grew up in. The river changed course and the village moved upstream, no one died, but everything I remember, the sunning rock, the mud pools, the chase tree, it's only memories now." Cryosanthia says, staring at the wood plaques, noting the holes, the missing nameplates. She hesitates to ask why, concerned about stolen honour or embarrassed modesty. "My family..."

Her words trail off, she sounds dismissive when they return, "Sire, Nest-Mother, Clutch-Mother, clutch-mates, the people do not form bonds like softskins. This one insults you to pretend to understand or emphasize."

Although... clearly she cares. A prejudice is easy to hide behind, that there is nothing to speak of to avoid speaking of it.

"Those are memories of happier times. I am sorry they are behind you. That's a beautiful poem." The floor is interesting, so interesting, isn't it. "I don't see why I would. You wronged me and her, who else needs to know?" A few thoughts click into place, the others would want that information. "Oh. Well. I can think of a few. I don't see how it would help. So, ok."

Jinks sits all the way down, balancing with one hand and folding his legs again. His back is to the stove, knees near to the sith. They aren't touching but there's a casual intimacy. "I'll try to be better. You'll stop worrying about the things you've done to me because they don't matter." He smiles, sadly, and blinks away a tear or two. "Or I did more than enough to deserve them."

"Take the time for yourself and then be the best mom you can." The gnome rubs at his chest and then pulls the robe a little tighter. "We make mistakes. We hurt the people we care about and don't deserve it... but we try and we do better." He smirks, leaning back to size up the oversized lizard. "'It's never too late,'" he echoes, affecting an impressive imitation. "Your words.

"You take all of these things... everything you've learned in eighty-five years... I'm sure you'll be great."

The gnome cants his head to one side, back and behind him. The far corner has the tarps pulled into a bowl-like heap, rising to cup a clutch of shattered eggs. A white sith, Cryosanthia, sits next to it looking mirthful and content, swarmed with smaller, hatchling sith-makar. They're awkward and mischievous, exploring and playful; babies at play.

"See?" suggests Jinks.

GAME: Jinks casts Major Image. Caster Level: 7 DC: 19

The whitescale smiles warmly, which for her is almost approaching room temperature. The illusion is convincing enough she makes a trilling noise, a call for younglings, and rests both hands on the curve of her belly. "I hope so Jinks, oh I hope so."

She stares at the scene, riveted on the imagined younglings, feeling her instincts stir, "I'm terrified Jinks. I started a ball rolling and it's taking me with it. I thought during my Egg-Watcher training I'd never be one of those jumpy Nest-Mothers and now... I feel it building."

Her words vibrate with worry, "They're so small, so delicate. You're closer to their world than I'll ever be. You and Faran and even Lily now, the little-est big sister ever."

The image has her transfixed, a nest. Her nest! Coming soon. "I really need to get building."

Jinks shrugs again, his attention split. He looks between the two Cryosanthias as the illusion stands, sorting her spawn. Their number isn't fixed. The come and go as they pass in and out of view. Finally, a the little ones cling to her. Most drape across the back of her tail-- like the gnome saw with Svarshan so many times. She issues a soothing sound, half-Draconic but as much a vocalization to put the little ones at ease. There's a cave wall, now. Deep and inviting. Other sith are there, their shapes eclipsed in fog and waiting to help. Then the whole crew step out of sight.

The gnome looks that way for another moment, letting the whole thing slowly bleed into the mist. Then it fades away entirely.

"Anything outside of this city is safer than in," he decides, turning back. "But I can't give you parenting advice short of cliches." A tilt of the head, "and you've had a dry run with Lily. So you're not going in blind."

The whitescale wistfully watches until the image fades away. There is a final trilling call, her tail twitching. She can feel the weight of younglings on it. She feels a rush of confidence and the weight on her front is a hopeful comfort again.

"Lily saved me," Cryo says with all seriousness, "She's my missing piece. She pinned me back together. I will do everything I can for her. Saving her, saved me."

She gestures carefully at his bandage. "Not... as obvious as with you, but we're all missing a piece. Every adventurer. We're across the line in another world but..."

"We're not ... inhuman. Well maybe Merek, but the rest of us, we're still grounded." Sapphire eyes fix on the gnome's, "There's a piece that will fix you Jinks, you'll know when you find it, and you are not alone."

She leans forward, a little closer to that intimate space, "Some things only adventurers understand."

"I hope she has blue hair and big tits," Jinks confides after returning Cryosanthia's look for a long moment. His smiles is genuine and he finds himself laughing after a heartbeat. A good, honest laugh that makes him squint and show his teeth. He quiets, finally, and gingerly rests a hand against Cryosanthia's jaw, dips his forehead against her snout.

The gnome takes another deep breath and finds the melody. The air takes on a weight and he sits back, dropping his hand.

"What I offer is apology.

My words say much,

Lack a subtle touch.

Contrition... short a lender's fee.

I've been so scared.

Admit? I've never dared.

Regrets I give to thee.

Actions that I'd revert.

Unjust that I've done hurt.

What I offer is apology.

Contrition short a lender's fee.

Regrets... I give to thee."

The gnome's eyes close and he leans back, braced in the flow of the Hymn through the room. His nostrils flare before his eyes open again. "I'll always be sorry, Cryosanthia. And I'll always try to be better. Coyote laugh with you, Lily, and your babies."

She sits, jaw held, feeling the touch of the gnome, his forehead's brush. Soft skin, contact that leaves when he sits back, sings and offers his well-wish. "Thanks."

Cryo feels the hymn in the room. She is not well connected to it, but her goddess watches, always. Her voice rises in a soft song, a vibration in her throat adding resonance to the light words. Not quite extra voices of musical accompaniment, but they seem wider than they are.

"You show me the way,

"In the things I should say,

"I carry secrets full of lies and lives.

"Regrets I have as well,

"And actions I'd undo

"Things said and seen that should not have been.

"I accept as I must

"It would be unjust

"To hold you to the lines I have erased.

"I accept. Apology, lender's fee

"Regrets, and all that must be

"I'm broken too. The mirror of myself is in you.

She finishes and her breathing is slow, steady. She raises the amphora and takes another impressive drink. She is thirsty.

"Thank you Jinks. I've wronged Seldan and Zeke, and Braelnoir, and Faran, almost everyone I've cared for it seems. I'll always try to be better, but it has been marked, I do not improve fast enough, and fall back in my rut very easily."

She leans back, gazes at the ceiling, "I hope he does."

The stove has had enough time now and radiates a marked amount of heat. The metal flue-- more like a pipe-- rising up and running across the ceiling sheds an impressive amount of heat. It's a simple but effective contraption.

Jinks stands, passing by Sabina quickly to make sure she still sleeps soundly. That nothing's gone awry. He adjusts the robe and walks back. "I hope that any improvement is enough. However gradual.

"I think the chosen of the gods-- the sunguard, seers, vanguards... lancers, sunblades, and silver guards-- they'll never now what it's like. To fight through this world without the words of their patron in their ears."

Jinks sighs and shakes his head, it's easy to make excuses. So easy. It's harder to meet commitments. "I'll start my sponsorship of the orphans again," he decides, stepping and turning to look across at the sith-makar. "Like I used to. Before.

He folds his arms, "A start; better than nothing."

Cryosanthia follows the gnome with her head as he checks on Sabina, and the overhead heat-pipe.

"Gradual improvement may be all we can hope for."

She goes silent for a long moment. "I owe Braelnoir her dreams. I owe Faran... the healing she gave me. Aya, a rescue. Aryia and Seyardu... friendship, guidance, support. Warnings about the mistakes I've made."

More silence, "the one I considered mate and his kin... nothing more to worry about."

Her head raises, she focuses on the gnome, "the ones who need know my condition and plans, know. Anyone else has enough to worry without that complication... so.. a secret for you to keep. In as much as it is. Where I've gone and what I undertake."

Jinks nods and pantomimes sewing his lips shut and flicking away the imaginary needle. He turns and pads across the floor, stepping over the bits of tarp that have pushed around into a wrinkled tangle.

His loose hair flutters as he approaches the sole window still open. He shivers at the chill and considers the sky briefly before pulling the window shut. Dropping the latch.

"Now there's a joke," Jinks says quietly, turning and leaning back against the windowframe. "We keep each other's counsel. You of my death and me of your life."

"Only to reveal it in the worst possible circumstance, because of a misunderstanding?" Cryosanthia wobbles her head, a teasing grin curling the edge of her mouth. "That's the sort of drama the Absinthe Dragong enjoys most. Even if it is a little tripe and trite."

She adjusts how she's sitting, hugging her knees as well, though not close to her shoulders. She can hear icebergs, growling and grinding away somewhere distant and cold.

"Be better," she sighs, almost too quiet to hear. Almost. "It'll be ok, Jinks. We'll be Ok."