Welcome to Gaia! ::

It is a wonderfully golden afternoon when the messenger is sent for her: much of the day has until now been spent in play, with all of her usual friends about her, ready to devote themselves to her amusement. Although the urchin that approaches the group is not one of her usual set, she has seen him before; he is the lowest of the low, a scrawny and often skittish street-child. Today he has a nice new shirt, which means by the standards of the children she plays with he has come into an exceptional piece of good luck, and his expression is especially earnest.

"Miss 'livey," he calls to her, and the others push and shove and pull him up front when he hesitates to stand too close. Once set before her he hesitates, momentarily frightened even of her, which certainly may seem unusual, until finally the message bursts out of him all at once. "Them wanta see ya," he says solemnly, hands folded behind his back. "They ain't mad, jest currous, they says."

There may be some murmuring amongst the others, and the little urchin stands a bit taller as if in protest that they might not believe him, puffing his chest out with pride: "They gaves me a whole shirt of me own to tell ya! From they own hands, they did. Both of theys was real nice, and both of theys smiled!"

The other children might and might not be able to pick up on who he's talking about -- there are plenty of people who could be "them," but not many that would be spoken of in pairs. The Freds have a curious reputation amongst the lower classes, for they do keep a stern watch over their own streets, and are known generally to be involved with smuggling, which amongst the poor is seen as a reasonably honorable trade. They are not known for harming or stealing children, and in fact will sometimes give enterprising children a few coins to run little errands for them.

"They's the two of them," he says, falling prey to a common confusion among very small children -- that everyone knows the things that they know. "The two of they is all alike, and ain't nobody can tell they aparts." The words escape all in a rush, and he is so excited about his message that he stands nearly on his toes to deliver it to her, as if he is offering her the chance to meet with the gods themselves. "They's the Freds, miss 'livey, them is important people. You gots to come, miss 'livey, they already gives me a shirt!" He is practically bouncing now with worry that she might decide to decline this invitation, but he does not appear worried that some ill might befall either of them .. then again, he doesn't look like the sort that'd be clever enough to pick up on it if the twins did mean her harm.

But the others will have plenty of information about the Friedrichs Grimm, if she asks for it: the cons they like to pull, their family connections and their work, and -- this being used to show her how gentle they are -- that the Freds never beat anyone who doesn't owe them money.

The boy is delighted at her willingness to come along, and if he is a bit quiet on the journey, he is also nimble and quick and knows what routes to take so that they are not stopped by well-meaning adults. And instead of heading into the poorer sections of town, where her safety might be suspect, he takes her to an area that borders the poorer and the slightly-better off areas mostly inhabited by tradesmen. There are taverns and cookshops, and though there is movement in and out of them, Olivia has arrived at an in between hour -- the lunchtime crowd has long since gone their way, and the dinner crowd has not yet arrived. He takes her up through an alleyway and into the kitchen entrance to one of these taverns, where it seems that the staff has paused in their work to share a cup of tea.

Two men sit at the table, surrounded by cooling loaves of bread and pots of stew set out to slowly bubble until they are ready to be served, and it is perhaps only when they look up to greet her that she will notice what is strange about them. They look as much like each other as if one is only the reflection from a mirror, stepped out of it to pass the time; it would take close observation or familiarity to be able to spot the tiny differences between them. They even smile in the same way at precisely the same time, standing up so that they might execute identical courtly bows.

"And here she is, our little lady of the streets!" First tips up his head to grin at her, and then straightens so that he might hold out a chair at their little table.

"We weren't sure if you'd come," agrees Last, tipping his own head up: he steps sideways from them both, snatching a loaf from the shelf and offering it to the urchin who has brought her here. Eyes wide with delight, the boy snatches it and is gone in a moment.

"But we're glad you're here. Tea? Cookies? Wine?" The last is offered teasingly, though they do not expect her to take them up on it: it is perhaps meant to show that they are beyond rules here, the rules that would ordinarily forbid someone so young from accepting such a beverage.

It is in any case up to the Freds to pour her tea for her, as courtesy demands -- and they seem to enjoy the gallant front they are putting on for her, as if it's all just a great game, to pretend to be noble. It gives everything they do a childish air, an edge of silliness, that makes it hard to picture them as dangerous.

"As you like, sweet lady," says First, pouring the tea and then setting it before her, along with a twist of paper that holds sugar enough for her to sweeten it if she so desires. Then he will seat himself, as will his brother, nearly at the same time. They have in the process switched places; where First sat before, now Last sits, and vice versa.

"We're the Friedrichs, little miss -- on account of the fact that I'm Friedrich," Last begins, with a grin.

"-- and so am I," First also grins, taking a cookie himself. "Not very creative, were our da."

"Oh, there's the trouble, I'm afraid." Last chuckles, with every bit of the mischief that so appeals to her: he finds himself tickled by Olivia's fascinated interest.

"Most folk can't." First gives her a wink, as pleased with their paired names as she is -- being indignant about their matched names does not occur to him or his twinsib.

"It don't bother us none, though." Last leans back in his chair, tilting it onto the two back legs as he watches her. "Bothers other folk sometimes, but it's all one and the same to us."

First nods amiably at this, witha hint of amusement at those in the past who have been downright unnerved at their sameness. "I've the notion," he tells her, tipping his head in her direction, "that you won't be bothered. To them that know us well, he's Last, on account of he were born last."

"And he's First, on account of he were born first." Last grins, as if this is a great joke, inviting her to share it with him. "And the silly bloke's bet me that next we meet, you'll be able to tell us apart! A whole gold piece!"

Nor will anything ride on her knowing which is which, other than the gold piece between them -- not like when they usually play their little game. Thus far they like her: so many higher class brats would be snobbish around them, or afraid of them, and she's neither. She's just a happy little gel with a cleverness they can spot that others might not be so keen to notice, but they fancy themselves clever little lads, so it pays to tip their hats to her, so to speak. "Oh, we asked after you a good bit before we sent lil' Druther with your invite," First tells her, still grinning. He doesn't see anything wrong with this sort of spying about; if anything, at his level it's something of a compliment.

"Heard plenty of good," Last agrees. "That you're as bright as a new pin,"

"And sweet as a lark. Seems true enough." First nods agreeably, giving her another wink.

"Couple've reasons," Last begins, watching her carefully now, because at least one of the reasons they're about to propose may go right over her head .. or it may not. "One, 'cause you're a nobble. You act like you ain't, which is a credit to ya, I gotta say, but you still are." His tone isn't angry or condescending, simply matter-of-fact. Whether or not her blood is strictly blue, she is worlds away in class from the children she plays with, and from the brothers sitting across from her.

"If something happened to Druther, nobody'd know but us, and like as not there ain't nobody'd care." First picks up the thread of conversation just as casually, watching his twinsib pour them both another cup of tea. "But if something happened to you, your lot'd swarm all over our streets like hornets. So we needed to know whether it'd be best to chase you off .."

" .. or if you really were as clever as was said, and it'd be wise of us to befriend you. You're only a little thing now, but little girls grow up. And them as is their friends when they're little gels got a good chance of being their friends when they's all growed up." Last spreads his hands out in front of himself as he lays their plan out before her for her approval, and as calculated as it may be, they aren't known for being traitors. It could be that they'd be good friends to have.

They both seem to like this answer very much -- as they like her the more that she says and the longer that she's around them. She doesn't protest, she doesn't argue, and although she may not seem to like what they're saying, she thinks about it before she answers them, even as a youngling. To them that's as fair a sign of cleverness as any, and they're as tickled by her boldness as they are by Rajani's sharp tongue, all too often sharpened on them!

Last laughs heartily, though he does not miss his cue: he refills her cup and makes sure that the sugar is still within reach. "Oh, you'd've heard from us long afore now if you weren't a nobble!"

His brother grins an agreement, giving Olivia a cheeky wink. "Got that right. Would've snapped you up fore you could so much as blink! Best way to stay in business, makes sure that them as is cleverest is working for you!"

"Anyway," Last continues, unable to give up his grin, although his tone suggests a more serious intent behind his words. "Your position just meant we hadta wait, kinda. Don't do no good to steal you, and don't do good to tell you nothing until we know you're old enough to hold your secrets to your own."

"There's those that don't much like us," First complains, sounding truly hurt, as if he can't really understand why. "So we hadta be careful-like."