Jager had been exploring Coricanchac for a while now, learning more about the city in which he was trapped. While technically he could leave the city at any time, he preferred to think of it as his prison. It was easier to hate the city and the man who ruled it than to focus on his loss of homeland, yet again.

The marketplace was of considerable interest. While it was mostly a place of legitimate commerce, the dark corners of the market area were full of less legal offerings. It was these that were of interest to Jager; if he could turn them against the golden leader of the Incans, he might have the leverage he needed to make Timeslip go home. It was too late to stop what she had set into motion; he knew this. But he would save what he could.

If only he knew what was going on at home.

The overhang where he had hidden himself was high off the ground, its shadowy shelter hiding him from all sorts of prying eyes while allowing him to see a large portion of the market. Jager clung effortlessly to the Jaguar statues that served as supports for the ledge. And from this perfect spot, he saw her.

The lithe form swung around the edge of the temple, using flashing claws to change her arc and tumble into a new direction. She aligned herself to fall arms and legs spread wide, allowed her to control her fall.

She did it just like he had taught her. Or rather, just like how he had never taught her.

Her bare hands caught the light pole and she swung in loops around it twice before landing on it in a crouch. Her red and green hair tumbled from the violence of her movements, slowly settling to a stop around her face. But there was a stark reminder of who she wasn't: her grey eyes were normal, without an unnatural shine in them.

He watched her drop from the pole and walk over to a booth, perusing the wares. She was dressed in the local style, with a short feather skirt, possibly real instead of faux. The real ones were more expensive, as was the black silk shirt, boldly backless with only two cords holding it to her body. Her bare feet were pale against the red stone of the ancient sidewalk.

Carver leaned forward and selected some jewelry; Jager saw her bend down and try on the slave anklelette. After a moment, she gave the woman some money, turned and walked further down the open bazaar.

He watched her move and several thoughts ran through his head. Jager knew he was going to need a lot of help to bringing about the kinds of social changes this world needed and she could be a part of this. He was also curious about what forces had transformed her life … or had been absent. Lastly, he was curious if she had the killer edge and instincts that the Carver in his world had.
“Or maybe it would just be nice to talk to somebody,” he mused quietly.

Jager slipped down into the crowd and began following her. He kept his distance initially as to not spook her. He witnessed both how she interacted with the baselines and how they interacted with her. She hid her predatory nature well. The people treated her as someone special, but not in a fawning of fearful manner. He could live with that.
Once he knew the basics, Jager set up his approach. He approached well within her peripheral vision. Sneaking up on her would have a negative impact. They met up at a booth with various jewelry made of semi-precious stones and exotic feathers. He looked into her eyes. He remembered liking he eyes now. They had a sense of honesty to them that he admired. Maybe just talking to her wouldn’t be so bad.
“Hello there. I’m Jason and I’m new around here.”

Jael was minding her own damn business, when another mooning baseline toddled over and decided she was dying to know him. Or at least, that was her first thought, when she heard the opening gambit after giving him the briefest of glances. Stifling a sigh, she turned to him with a smile, Pachacamac's Rules for Ruining Jael's Fun rolling around in her head:

1. Be nice to the Baselines.

2. # 1 means no killing them unless they have a Sacrificial Permit.

3. #1 also means no hurting them.

4. The Sacrificial Permit must be completely filled out and approved by an official Priest of Pachacamac. No backdating or posthumous form completion allowed.

They were up to one hundred, twenty-six rules now. Jael wondered if he'd ever regretting bringing her here. But she knew the score, and so was following Rule Number 1 to the hilt when she turned with a shark's smile. "Hi. Jael. That's J-A-E-L, not J-dot-L-dot, nor is it J-A-I-L. You can't have a date," she added with an alluring smile as she pulled her Sharpie out of her back pocket. "You can have my autograph, though. And I will sign body parts, if you wish and you promise your girlfriend won't get pissed enough to come after me and make me kill her. I don't want the extra paperwork."

Then she actually looked at him, the pulse jumping in his throat reminding her that it had been a while since she had eaten. This guy was at least American and cute - very cute. Nova cute. With a curious expression that hinted at both a smile and a frown, she sent a surge of quantum at him.

The answering ping wasn't entirely unexpected now, and Jael's smile became more sincere. She took a half-step forward, smiling up at him as she asked, "But you aren't really a tourist, are you?"

“Jael,” he purred back to her. In response to her question, Jager let a smile play across his lips.
“Tourist? No. I’m an unwelcome visitor to this city and until I saw you, I couldn’t find much to recommend it.”
He lets his eyes play down her body to the ankle before making eye contact again.
“Interesting choice,” he commented. “I haven’t really decided on any style choices for myself yet. I’m still studying the ground.”
Jager’s mannerism was fluid and relaxed, but there was a tinge of restless energy to him. Likewise, his matte black suit could easily be confused for a faux spy look, but on more careful examination the black seemed to hold to the shadows and fade into the gray’s of perception. His face was the most perplexing though. His eyes showed a great deal of interest in Jael. They danced over her when she spoke with occasional flickers to her hands, and they glowed with a glacial hue when she smiled. There was the definite air that Jael was being studied.

Her eyes narrowed. Jael was used to being the predator; to have it turned on her, even a bit, was irritating. Pachacamac laid down rules; he never gave the impression of hunting her or sizing her up. This man did.

But she could hunt, too. "This?" She glanced at her outfit, quirking a striped eyebrow. "This is a sign of me playing nice with the local authorities. You know, going native and all that. Thankfully, I look good in feathers."

She considered herself to be good at manipulation and seduction, but her damned eyes gave her away every time. Her grey eyes were clear and honest; to lie to someone, she had to hide behind tinted glass. So more often than not, she didn't bother lying. And really, the only secret she had worth keeping actually improved her status around these parts.

"I have to say," Jael said suddenly, "that you're not just studying the ground. You want something."

"Do people around here find women who know what they want so intimidating that they can't just approach them because they like what they see?"
Jager looks past Carver to the crowd moving past them.
"What I want is to get to know who you are, if you are willing. I admit I didn't come here today looking for anybody, but was studying the ground. I've changed my plans, because I feel the circumstances warrant it. Sometimes we just ... prowl about, no?"

"Yeah, but I have no desire to be diefied, not that it's exactly legal, what with me having no Incan ancestory," Jael sighed, dropping her eyes to the table again. "And I'm not interested in developing a cult."

She turned to Jager suddenly, a predatory sparkle shone in her eyes as she met his eyes. "But I don't think you want to worship me, at least..." her eyes traveled from head to foot and back to his eyes, "not outside of certain rooms in my house. So you think that I warrant a change in your plans, whatever lofty plans you may have." She leaned in close, and he could smell her; not just her perfume, but the meat and blood that made her being. "What do you want to know?"

Jager leans in until their noses are almost touching.
"I want to know what makes your heart race. I want to know what brings you to the stillness before the strike. I want to know what brings you to the edge of restraint and what makes you live by those restraints."
His tongue briefly licks his lips while he inhales her scent through his nose and mouth. He can virtually taste her.
"Tell me about what draws you to you prey. What factors separate them for the rest of people moving about us?"

"Fear." It was the only thing she said in answer to his question. She showed no signs that he was invading her personal space, or any discomfort. Snapping gray eyes locked onto glacial blue ones and held, strong and fearless. And Jager got the feeling that even if she knew what he was capable of, she would still look at him so fearlessly.

Planting her palms on the hawker's table, Jael leaned back, stretching her body out like a centerfold. Her eyes still remained locked on his. "And you?" she said when the air was thick with tension. "What do you look for?"

"Arrogance. More arrogance than even what I possess. Not the fearlessness of the brave few, but that skewed knowledge that anybody is not a potential victim at some point and time. We all are weak."
Jager shrugs.
"It's just that some of us find better uses ... artistic uses for our weaknesses."
He sniffs her again and seems to find her scent intoxicating.
"I let my own prejudices poison much of what I see in the world. You're different."
You always have been.

"Ah. The line," Jael said with a smirk. Her hoop earrings flashed in the sun as she tossed her head, shaking her shining hair. "'You're different.' Well, no shit. I'm a nova. We're all special little rainbows."

She spun away from him, snatching a banquet of flowers out of a vendor's basket, tossing some coins carelessly at the woman. While the old woman tried to catch them all at once, Jael stalked away, her arms cradling the flowers to her chest. She didn't need to look behind to know that he was following. She somehow knew he would be, and wouldn't stop, anytime soon. He was a predator, like her. And so she let him follow her to the graveyard.

A handful of graves stood back from the rest of the graveyard, fenced away from the others. Revenently, Jael laid a part of the bunch of flowers on each grave; the year of death ranged from three years ago to just a few days. Still ignoring Jager, Jael put a flower on each grave. "This is my 'different,' Jason," she said, waving a hand at the graves. "These are my dead."

Jager followed her among the graves looking at the headstones once she was done. He gave her space to do what she needed to do.
"Not all novas are special little rainbows. As for this" Jager said, looking at the flowers on the graves,"... I don't understand. Tell me about it."

He looked toward a statue of a robed woman. The lady was standing with her head bowed and her hands outstretched. Jager carressed her robe's hem as he awaited Jael's response.

Jael laughed, making it a harsh noise. "They wanted to be in my cult." Seeing his blank expression, Jael sighed. "Where'd you arrive here from, Innacave, Headupmyass, USA? I'm not Incan by birth, so I can't be a god. I am allowed to have a cult. And these guys wanted to be in my cult. And women." Jael's expression becomes conflicted, as if she's uncertain what to think.

"I told them I'd rather toss them off a cliff," she added. Her eyes go distant as she added, "They saved me the trouble. Pachacamac said they were mine to care for. And since I don't have a priest or priestess, I take care of the graves." Her gray eyes are hard and merciless as she looked up at him. "Take care what you say to the people around here. They're going to take you literally, some of them. Some know I'm just a nova. But others..." She shook her head. "They think their gods walk the earth. It makes for some really fucked up situations. Someone tried to give me their baby once. Me, with a baby. Crazy shit like that. Watch yourself. They like blue eyes around here."

Her mouth hooked into a smile. "Though, the thought that I took these guys away from the worship base of another hopped-up nova does make me smile."

Jager's expression softens slightly.
"You aren't someone likely to make the same mistake twice, but I'll keep your warning in mind."
He looks down at the graves looking at their dates of death and noting the similarity. After a moment he adds,
"I've be responsible for more than a few deaths myself. People - men and women - have followed me to their deaths. I didn't want them to die, but I wanted other things more. Sometimes I let my drive get the better of me ... and people have suffered for it. I've suffered, but always ended up alive."
Feeling that he has had enough introspection for the moment, he gazes toward Jael and says half-jokingly,
"Besides, I'll tell you what my ever-hopeful Mother told me: No one is ever ready for a child. We still end up doing a fine job anyway."

"Ha," Jael said, in a tone that could have been relunctant agreement or an irritated sneer. She stared angrily at the graves before shrugging. The movement, and the sudden change in expression that accompanied it, were startling; with much the same speed she march out of the small graveyard. A set of stone stairs went up the building that flanked the small cemetary and Jael began to stalk up them.

After a few steps, she turned and said, "I hate this bright sun. C'mon, let's get inside." The predatory grin crossed her face again and she added, "You should feel honored. Not everyone gets to see my house."

Jager nodded. He knew what a private person Carver - no, not Carver, this was Jael - could be. Still, they had much in common. He followed her up the stairs toward the unadorned house and it gave him an idea.
Not Carver, but Carver-esque. How much are they different and how much do they hold in common.

"I'm not a big fan of the sun either. Especially not here were it has such bizarre connetations. I like the shadows I can stretch out in."
He began taking the stairs two at a time so that he caught up to Jael at the top of the stairs. In a low voice, Jager asked her a very private question.
"Does the stonework talk to you?"

Jael glanced at him, and it wasn't a friendly glance. With a grunt, she led him between two walls, to a door tucked between them. Drawing a key out of her pocket, she unlocked the door to an inner garden. It was wild and semi-tamed, with hardy flowering plants - often called weeds - and lots of wide walkways.

The thick wooden door was swung shut behind them and they were deep in the garden before Jael said, "I don't talk about that, with anyone. The last nova I told tried to use it to influence me, used telepathy to trick me." She walked in front of him, pausing to cup a flower in her hand. "After that, I didn't tell anyone else."

She turned, and her other hand bore a five nasty claws. There was a broad scowl on her face. "Which makes me wonder how the hell you know about it."

Jager's eyes narrowed in response to Carver's threat. She could sense the subtle change in his stance.
"Like you," he said in a deadly whisper, "I don't take kindly to threats. If you want to know how I know, we'll sit down and talk about it. You want me to leave then I'll leave. You want to fight me without knowing how I know ... well, I guess I won't ahve much of a choice in that decision, now will I?"

A moment of inspiration hit him.
"The Telepath - what was her name? Her handle?"

It was still long odds that it was Arachne, but in there lay the most hope for ending this without bloodshed. The Jael he knew was not renown for her patience. Maybe this one, allowed to grow as a full individual, was different.

Patience or not, this Jael was still pissed. "Threats?" she hissed. "You seek me out, and you know things about me that no one should know, and then you get upset about me being defensive? Tell me, would you be so casual about me revealing personal information about you? I sincerely doubt it."

Jael had remained back; she was close enough to rush him, but not so close that she couldn't react if he rushed her. "The telepath was a he, some Korean sonova bitch who liked to fuck with people. I called himself Psionic, or something like that." Her unclawed hand clenched. "And let that be my signal that this is as 'sitting down and talking' as I'm gonna get until I have some information from you."

Jager nodded in response. After a second of silence, he spoke.
"Right. My approach would have been a bit different, but my desire to question someone with that kind of information would be equally as strong ... and I would most likely want to kill them for knowing."

Jager circled slowly, keeping the distance between himself and Jael the same.
"The short story is that you told me."
He holds up a hand to forestall her response.
"The long story is something like this. Do you know about two novas that visited here this spring? One of them, covered in a star-field pattern was probably here earlier. Well, those two are from another existance ... a parrallel world and I am from their as well."
"In that existance, I knew someone who could be your twin. I helped train her. We were friends after a fashion. She had a rough time with a telepath too, but now she is okay and living with a guy. I don't see her very much ... and I may never see her again."
"The thing was, I'm trapped here until someone decides to send me home, or they decide I'm too much of a nuiscence and kill me. I was wandering the city, seeing what was what here and I bumped across you. Since then, I've been wondering just what to make of you. I know you are a different person. I make other people's lives difficult at times, you see. Not on purpose, but interesting things tend to happen around me."
Jager lets his speach die off there as he waits for Jael to digetst, and perhaps discard, what he's said.

"Of course I know about Timeslip," Jael said. She glanced down at her clawed hand, then shrugged as the sparkling daggers disappeared. "I am one of Pachacamac's executioners. I got her a baby gift, though I had something to take care of on the day of her shower. I've been meaning to meet her, to ask what I'm like where she's from."

Jael took another look at Jager, her eyes narrowing. "So you're trapped huh? You must be pissed. But don't worry about Pacha killing you; if he's let me live, he'll let any pain in his ass live."