RP:For An Old Friend

Summary: Dezerae drops into the Rebel Room for a tattoo, giving Meri and Dezerae the chance to formally meet for the first time.

The Rebel Room, Larket

Dezerae hated Larket. It was too bright and pristine for her personal taste. Being a regular inhabitant of Vailkrin and a registered Cenril civilian, the feline was not in her normal element and this attributes to the lost expression on her face. Eventually she roams down the correct street and finds herself posted in front of The Rebel Room. The redhead lifts the front of her robe out of habit as she steps into the establishment, dark gaze readjusting to the light changes with visible shifts in eye dilation. Once her body is settled, feet continue to tap over the black stone ground. She was searching but was still obviously lost. Her fluttering gaze finally fall onto the painted sign against the far wall - “Tattoos by Meri” - and she decides that she must be the right place. Hopefully.

If someone were to ask Meri a year ago if she would have ever traded living in Rynvale for a move to Larket and she probably would have looked at that person like they had lost their dang minds. Do you know the sort of madness that happens in Larket? The things that they are doing to witches? Yet here she was, with a business in Larket. Something must have changed her mind enough to inspire this move. It is not Estelle that greets Dezerae tonight, as would normally be the case, for Meri's hired help put in her hours for the day and has gone home to spend the rest of her evening with her family. It's only Meri herself that remains within the four walls of the shop. The door chimes open signaling that a customer has entered but Meri does not jump to rush over to Dez the second she is within sight. Instead Dezerae is met with a calm and cool, "Just browsing around tonight? Or are you looking for something in particular tonight?" Meri remains behind the shops main counter, a small distance away from the only tattooing chair that is in the shop as well as the space dedicated for those painting classes that Meri likes to offer (you can drink wine during these classes, because wine and painting is the best combination ever, yes?)

Dezerae hadn’t noticed Meri at first; chalk it up to unfamiliar surroundings or a dulled senses due to a hangover. Regardless of the reasoning, the woman’s steady voice still takes the feline by surprise, her gaze flickering from a wall that’d caught her attention (though they were all white). The feline paused in her tread, processing the questions posed and deciding what her reason for being here was. “Tattoos.” She said at first, the inflection in her voice suggesting that she was still wavering on whether to move forward with the endeavor. A beat passes before she blinks to refocus on the blond before her. “Tattoos. People are telling me that here’s a good place to get that done?” There’d be no way to pin-point these ‘people’; it most likely came up through random conversation and small talk as she drank her nights away at The Office. Before her question could linger in the air, she takes a few steps toward the counter, being sure to remain on the consumer’s side - she’s neither that assertive nor comfortable - and rests dainty fingers on to the top, “Is now a good time for that? If not, I can come back.” While waiting for a response, Dezerae give a once-over across the blonde; she was familiar, that was very true. But with her fogged memory and the amount of blondes she’s recently been talking to, there was no way to figure out from where.

Meri smiles at first when Dezerae says the word 'tattoos' but then there is silence, which causes Meri to lift a brow in an expectant 'go on' sort of manner. That expression would remain plastered on Meri's face until Dezerae did in fact elaborate on her statement of 'tattoos'. "It might be a good time. It might not be," Meri says coyly as a grin sprawls across her painted red lips once more. "I guess we'd have to get down into the nitty gritty details of what you are wanting and where you are wanting it. Do you have a design drawn up already?" Plenty of people within the realm were artistically inclined enough to draw up a sketch of what sort of tattoo they were wanting, they just needed help putting the drawing to flesh. "So...Tell me about the piece you are hoping to get from me tonight and we'll go from there." Introductions might be warranted, but Meri's thoughts are consumed by this prospective tattoo -- which is fairly normal. Some girls were obsessed with fashion, from shoes to dresses, Meri had an addiction to tattoos. Plus she had this nagging feeling that she has seen Dezerae somewhere, but where? There had been so many faces present at that Rogue's guild meeting, it's going to take the woman a minute to connect those dots.

Dezerae nodded once in response to what she felt was a decent game plan, fingers idly raising to push errant strands behind her ear. “Right.” Digits move beneath heavy cloak, hands visibly patting at her pockets before they come back out with a sketch in hand. It’s gently placed on the table, as though it were an ancient artifact, when it fact it is a freehand drawing sketched in simple parchment. “I want this on my body.” The photo it turned on the counter so that to face Meri. As she assumes the blonde artist will scrutinize the photo, her arms disappear again under her robe. “That’s my pet, Stranger. He’s my oldest and dearest and he’s unfortunately reaching that age. I’d like to keep him alive in one way or another.” The photo was a detailed illustration of a white adult tiger. The animal laid on his stomach, arms crossed beneath his head, oceanic gaze focused on the sketch artist - the gaze being the only indication this is a colorful piece and not a black and white illustration. As detailed in the photo, his fur was a perfect contrast of black and snow-white, the pattern on his coat incomparable. “Do you think this is possible?” She pauses, raising her arm slightly so that her robe can fall and expose her freckled forearm. “I’d like it on my arm but I doubt it’d be enough space. I just want to be able to look at him.”

Meri listens to the story behind the tattoo and dips her head in a slow nod of acceptance, the smile that has been on her red lips fading appropriately due to the somber nature of the tattoo they are discussing. "Well if this is the design you have done up, given why you want to get it, I am not going to even entertain the notion of redrawing it myself. I might adjust a line or two here or there, but nothing noticeable. I do agree with you though, a lot of the tiger tattoos that I have seen on a person's arm focuses on the head of the tiger. To do a tattoo of a tiger's full body on the arm of someone, especially a female someone, might mean that some of the detail becomes harder to see once we scale it down to fit on the arm?" This is posed in the form of a question because while Meri is an experienced tattoo artist, sometimes it is hard to know how that scale will look until it has been stenciled onto a person's arm. "But I want to respect the fact that you want to be able to see it to remember too. Are you the sort of woman prone to wearing shorts or skirts? I would make the pitch of your calf, there is more meat to work with, or even if you are inclined to show a bit of belly? That might look nice too. But I will entirely respect what you would like and if you would like us to try and do a mock up on your arm to see how it will look, then we can definitely do that." Meri does not look at Dezerae once while explaining any of this, she is studying the details of the design that is in front of her intently.

Dezerae tapped her fingers, in a fidgeting manner, against the counter while Meri inspects the pictures, only stopping as she begins to speak. She inhales deeper than natural as questions are directed toward her. “Skirts? No, I don’t wear those, no shorts either.” The feline decides that now would be a good time to remove her cloak, allowing Meri to see the canvas that is her body. Dezerae is donning obvious men’s trousers, her belt the only thing keeping them from falling to the floor. On her top she had on a fitted tank, serving almost as a restrictive bodice. “I really just show my arms, honestly. And even barely that at times.” Her cloak is gently folded and places off to the side on the counter, before she goes back to examine her freckled skin. “I’m open to other parts of the body, though. I can be the only one to see it, the population does not need to indulge in my tattoos as well.” Even now she had a very well hidden tattoo on her body and was perfectly content with that. Besides that, she had her scorpion sketch on her back which was now in plain view but also usually concealed. “Honestly, my calves are not much bigger than my arms, to be frank. But we can try.” She leans forward and tugs at her trousers to examine her leg now. “Please, you tell me, you are the artist.” The feline was never the one to make decisions, this honestly being the first tattoo she’d gotten on her own accord.

Meri's blue eyes take a moment to travel over Dezerae's form from head to toe. There is nothing lecherous about this glance, it's purely an analytical look from the artist but given Dezerae's query, Meri can't help but mess with the feline juuuuust a little bit. The timing was too good to pass up, "Naw. I don't even work here." This sentence is punctuated with a wink to send the message that she is only joking. Up Meri goes, circling her way out from behind the counter so that she can give Dezerae a proper inspection, specifically in the calf area. The artist is weighing what they have discussed, mulling on Dezerae's reaction to her suggestions, and what the feline herself has said that her preferences were. She was open to other areas, but her arm was her first choice. "The name is Meri. And I feel like I have seen you before...out in Rynvale maybe? You are one skinny mini though, your legs are literally about as big as your arms." Meri was a thin woman herself, but she had the physique of a warrior-woman. Her legs were thicker than her arms, and neither of them were flabby or jiggly. "I'll do a mock up on your arm and we'll go from there. If you don't like it, we'll try something else. What is most important is that you're happy with the piece, I don't mind redrawing it a couple times." A beat. "We can break it up into sessions, starting with an outline and then do a second session for the shading. Or we can try for one session, that is entirely up to you and your pain tolerance. I must say though, I do wish you would have brought your friend, if he is social enough." There was Tuna, it was not so improbable in these lands. "If all of that sounds good to you, get comfortable in the chair and we'll see what we come up with, hm?" The chair was in plain sigh, so Meri does not point or motion to it.

Dezerae was crouched and balanced on her toes by the time Meri made it around the counter. The low position hopefully hid the slight teeter that resulted from the joke, the feline actually taking a moment to draw concern until she notices the wink. The blonde is joking. Good. “Dezerae, that’s my name. Good to meet you, formally. I have been in Rynvale at times, probably saw me with Pup— I mean, Leo since I don’t go there for any other reasons.” By this time, she’s fully seated on the ground, trousers pulled to her knees, exposing her other well hidden, grayed flame tattoo, and elbows propped on her legs. Dark gaze rolls over the artist briefly, starting at her feet and ending to the top of her blonde locks. Eventually her gaze settles on the other’s as a plan is proposed. “That sounds fine by me. I’ve no…clean experience with a tattoo so I feel I can only trust a professional.” The feline emits a soft noise as she stands onto her feet and quietly meanders toward the seat as instructed. As she traveled what feels like miles, she replies, “Let’s split it up into sessions. I’m not good with pain. I can bring him to the next session but he’s really not so friendly, unfortunately.” It takes a small hop to get into the chair but once in, she waits patiently, idly bouncing her legs.

Meri can't help but have herself a good chuckle over the brief moment of concern that Dezerae displays, but that moment passes. Meri follows after the feline, but she does not stop immediately next to the tattooing chair. This is a bit of an impromptu session and so Meri does not have the material prepared. "Ah, by the time Leo finally made it out to Rynvale, I was making my exit. He and I are not too familiar with one another actually." Meri has more of a working relationship with another wolf by the name of Hudson, sometimes Eleanor manages to make her way into the mix, but mostly Hudson. "I heard he is a little missing in action though? At least Eleanor has not seen him as of late...You got any news on the guy?" By the time that Meri has finished chatting it up, she has managed to gather the supplies that she needs. This time around she is not pulling any needles nor any permanent ink to mix up. She grabs a thin tip brushed and a bottle of temporary ink so that she can paint a mock up on Dezerae. One they figure out a design that will work for the space that she wants it on, then Meri will find the needles. "How long have you and Leo known each other? Long enough to be calling him pup, I assume. He doesn't seem the sort that would take kindly to that nickname though. Or maybe that is just the side that I have seen of him during my few interactions with him...."A beat. "This part is going to tickle. Just sit still." With that warning given, Meri would begin her work.

Dezerae fidgets in the seat as Meri collects her tools, the time between start dragging longer than her liking. But she’d not mention that; never critique before the work is done. They’ll spit in your food or something like that. Meri’s first remark is met with an absentminded, “Is that so?” Once she returns with a stylus and not a needle, the feline relaxes a bit more and allows their small talk to continue. She attempted to keep her arm still, palm faced up, while responding to the question, gaze never leaving the stylus. “I’ve no track on him. He’s gone rogue for the most part.” She squirms slightly, but doesn’t do much else in response to the temporary artwork. “A while. Longer than I’ve known a lot of folks.” She pauses, knowing that he doesn’t take kindly to her nicknames and she couldn’t defend that fact. “He doesn’t hate it. If he did, he’d tell me. Or maybe not, I don’t know with him. He’s ‘Pup’, you know?” Meri probably didn’t know but Dezerae would hope she’d feign the knowledge. Just for calm’s sake. Nose wrinkled in response to the nagging sensation but again, the feline attempted to keep herself remotely still. “How long have you been doing this? I hope a while; if not, please tell me otherwise.” The red-head was jesting but it was that type of jest that was half true and accompanied with focused attention on the blonde’s response.

It is probably not a good idea to critique the work of a tattoo artist before that work starts. One never knows when the artist will decide to not be kind with the needle, but even if Dezerae had voiced her dislike for the time it is taking to get this moving, Meri would not have thought too much of it. It's an anxious moment, waiting to get poked with a needle over and over and over again..."Long enough to own my own shop." Meri responds with a wry smirk, but goes on to give more detail while she paints. "Lita took me on first as an apprentice at SoulsKin years ago, but her parlor was not the first one that I worked out of. She decided to play it safe with me though, because none of the other places I worked would be able to provide reference within a reasonable amount of time because they are some distance away. A very long ship ride sort of distance. I can't even count how much ink work I have done in my years here. A lot though. You're in good hands." It will soon become apparent to Dezerae that what Meri is painting is not a full bodied design of a tiger. She has instead focused in on the face of the tiger, assuming that those are the details that Dezerae is going to want to remember first and foremost. This headshot does show that the tiger is resting his head on his two front paws, so it is similar to the concept that Dezerae brought to Meri. Every single detail has not been painted in, Meri does not want to dedicate too much time -- just enough to give Dezerae an idea of how the feline will sit and look on her arm. Meri emphasizes, "If you would like the full body, I can redo it...but my gut is telling me that your arms and legs are so thin, Twiggy, that we might lose the detail of your friend if we try and get a full body in. What do you think?" If Dezerae could not get a clear view of the outline Meri has done thus far, brush is traded out for a mirror which is angled to give Dez a better view.

There’s no certain moment of when her gaze began to wander but the feline began taking in the rest of the facility as Meri spoke. There was no point in staring at her while she worked; even with so much experience, Dezerae could only imagine that it could be unnerving to be watched so heavily. Lita’s name pulls in a memory for the feline; she’s heard of her before, sometime in Rynvale. “Well, that’s nice of her.” Hopefully it was nice of her and Dezerae wouldn’t unraveled any stories of pain and abuse. “I assumed I was in good hands once I was told to come here.” She leaned to the other side of the seat, swiveling her hips out so that to lounge further into the seat. The small woman was becoming restless though through some miracle was not disturbing that artwork developing on her arm. Once Meri pulls away, the feline is left to admire the temporary display of her beloved pet. The comment of her small frame is disregarded, allowing Meri to have this one as a reward for her work. And the needle hadn’t even come yet; could she just stop here? The feline’s head tilts, arms tilted the other direction to get a better view of the artwork. Belatedly, she notices the mirror and yields to Meri’s aid, looking at the design through the reflection. She’s quiet as the tattoo artist speaks of redoing the process, decreasing the scale of the image, and again the feline’s twig arms. Finally, the feline offers her opinion, “It’s perfect. He’s going to love it. Let’s move forward with this.”

There’s no certain moment of when her gaze began to wander but the feline began taking in the rest of the facility as Meri spoke. There was no point in staring at her while she worked; even with so much experience, Dezerae could only imagine that it could be unnerving to be watched so heavily. Lita’s name pulls in a memory for the feline; she’s heard of her before, sometime in Rynvale. “Well, that’s nice of her.” Hopefully it was nice of her and Dezerae wouldn’t unraveled any stories of pain and abuse. “I assumed I was in good hands once I was told to come here.” She leaned to the other side of the seat, swiveling her hips out so that to lounge further into the seat. The small woman was becoming restless though through some miracle was not disturbing that artwork developing on her arm. Once Meri pulls away, the feline is left to admire the temporary display of her beloved pet. The comment of her small frame is disregarded, allowing Meri to have this one as a reward for her work. And the needle hadn’t even come yet; could she just stop here? The feline’s head tilts, arms tilted the other direction to get a better view of the artwork. Belatedly, she notices the mirror and yields to Meri’s aid, looking at the design through the reflection. She’s quiet as the tattoo artist speaks of redoing the process, decreasing the scale of the image, and again the feline’s twig arms. Finally, the feline offers her opinion, “It’s perfect. He’s going to love it. Let’s move forward with this.”

Meri's red lips pull up into a delighted smile before she abandons her post in the chair. There would be another small waiting session for Dezerae so that Meri could finish the set up required for a tattoo. Needles were grabbed, black ink was mixed, a clean basin of water was pulled, as well as many white rags. White because it helped to show the client that they were also clean. In Meri's mind, she is not keeping Dezerae waiting for long, but then again Meri is the one gathering the items rather than waiting for the impending pain to come. "It was nice of her. Lita will always hold a special place in my heart, and I am not looking to steal business from her." Which is why Meri only has one chair and a number of art supplies -- she was trying to set up something slightly different but knew that she had enough cliental that she could not completely turn away from tattooing. She could be more selective about the business that she does take, however. No more stinky sailors fresh off the boat wanting a tattoo for Meri, they could go to SoulsKin. "But I think her gypsy spirit has gotten the best of her and she has taken to her wandering again." Back into the seat Meri would go after setting all of the required items on a nearby rolling cart. Needle is taken up and dipped into the freshly mixed ink and then that needle is brought toward Dezerae's skin. "Alright. Last call. Last chance to back out. Once I start there is no turning back." Well there could be some amount of turning back but there would still be some amount of evidence left behind. "We'll begin in...three...two....one...." And unless Dezerae demands Meri to stop, then she would soon feel the prick of that needle into her skin, on the repeat. "So we're splitting the sessions. We'll do the outline this time and then next time you should bring your feline friend, if he is up for the journey. Or I can come to you. Either way, I would appreciate the model."

Dezerae was left to wait again and with her arm forced to remain stationary to preserve the art, she felt a bit restrained. And of course, the gathering of supplies felt like another moment stuck in eternity but she relishes this break, knowing full well what is to come. “Ah, she’s gone rogue as well.” Legs are corralled to her chest with her free arm, chin tucked between her knees. Dezerae immediately dreads Meri’s return, wishing for eternity to last a bit longer. Instead, the blonde unleashes a weapon some call a tattoo needle and approaches her arms with it. The offer to back down is met with a nose wrinkle, “I did not sit in this chair for so long —“, it’s honestly been perhaps ten minutes, mind you, “—to back out. You may continue.” Even with such words, she hides her face in the legs after the countdown. She growls, yes, growls quietly, the noise mostly stifled by trouser fabric but still it is unmistakable. The feline ancestry should be to blame. Despite her aversion to small talk, another inherited feline quality, the feline indulges, more for own sake than Meri’s. “He’s really not the type to come out and play. He’s a grumpy sort. I’d say it’s because of old age but he’s been that way ever since I’ve know him. Grumpy cat.” She whimpers again, pressing her cheek to knee to force herself still. The only thing worse than the pain would be a mistake.

Meri has had all shapes, sizes and temperaments sitting in her chair, so the nose wrinkle, the slight sass, and the growl are met with an impish smirk. There is probably a reason that Meri's on beau has declared this woman a she-devil. "That is perfectly okay." Meri wouldn't want to stress the large cat by forcing him to do something he did not want to. Honestly Meri was okay with the fact that Dezerae was not the sort to want to small talk. The more that Meri conversed, the more distracted she was from the art, and distraction usually leads to error. Any chatter that does from for Meri is not usually for her own benefit, but for the benefit of her client. Distraction for them meant that they could take their mind off of the pain. Which is why Meri made this lovely investment. A word is uttered, one that is obvious and intuitive, "Play." As soon as that word is uttered, the sounds of the violin begin to fill the room to fill the silence for both ladies. If Dezerae spent enough time looking around, she would eventually locate a violin in the corner of the room that must be playing via some spell or enchantment. Meri was not entirely silent though. As she works on the outline, she begins to explain what Dezerae will need to do to care for the tattoo while it is healing. It was just an outline so far yes, but it was still important to keep the area clean and moisturized. Of course Dezerae does already have inkwork of her own, so if she seems to have the gist of what needs to be done, Meri won't drone on about the details. In all, Dezerae would have to endure a little under an hours worth of work to complete the outline of this session and then when Meri was done, she would give the area a final clean up, give Dezerae a chance to inspect the outline via that mirror, and then Dezerae's shoulder would be bandaged up, for there might be a bit of spot bleeding and who wants to have their clothing stained with droplets of blood? Not most. Meri did not need the reputation of ruining her clients clothing by sloppy work either. She was a stickler for those fine details. "So whenever you're ready, you know where to find me. It'll be about one hundred gold for this session."(Which does not need to be given to Meri at all because she'll go beat up some dragons in Rynvale and get 100 gold no problem).

Face had been hidden in her knees for the majority of the session. The violin and maintenance speech would blend together in a soft drawl. She was listening but not processing, the stabbing of the needle taking most of her attention. Perhaps it’s the blood rushing to her arm or her head but the pricks turn into numbing prods and effectually into dull, scrapping jabs. And for a moment, she feels nothing, completely absorbed in the classical music playing in the background in this interestingly adorned establishment. And then it was over. For a moment, the feline doesn’t move, assuming that the pain could not have ceased so effortlessly but eventually the woman peers to inspect the progress of the artist and is met with an outline of her beloved. She’d clap but her arms hurt. Instead, she offers a pained nod in approval and allows herself to be bandaged up, laying limp as though she’d been wounded. Technically, she has been. Once the artist rolls away, the feline shimmies off the seat and wanders wearily toward the counter to retrieve the items she’d discarded earlier. She drops what she’s sure of is over a hundred gold on the counter, the clink a bit harsh in comparison to the soft violin tones. “Yes, yes. I’ll be back soon. And I’ll bring him along, but I hope he doesn’t come off as rude.” She slowly throws her robe over her shoulders, careful of her newly bandaged arm, and offers a slight wave on her way out. “Good eve, Miss Meri.”