RP:Forget-Me-Nots in Ink
Summary: A tattoo for Haeli, from Lita. The best sort.
SoulsKin
There is a faded message painted across this shop's front door which reads, abandon all Hope. It may be just cryptic enough to pique your curiosity... Two glass display cases dominate the center of the room, filled with trinkets and jewels from around the world. In the back corner, beneath the stairs that lead to a second floor, there is a bookshelf with a comfy armchair next to it. A low work table lines the entirety of the western wall, a couple of chairs and a bench sitting in front of it. There is a curtained partition, for those that might wish to have their ink work or body modifications done in privacy. The work table is usually littered with bottles of ink in various colors and sketches of viable tattoo designs. Feel free to chat up the artists who might be working if you're interested in having some work done.
Lita has propped the shop's door open, letting the breeze drift in from the southern docks carrying the scents of the ocean with it. There are a couple of people waiting up front, perusing the books of art that usually litter the shop and Jax, the young lad who keeps up with supplies and the appointment books, is chatting up a pretty little elven girl while she debates the merits of a flower versus a butterfly. It's mostly background noise for Lita, who is perched on a bench along the western wall, finishing up a new piece for one of Cal's boys. The kid is maybe twenty years old with dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a five 'o clock shadow that is more wishful thinking than actual facial hair. Lita has her back to the shop's door and is smearing a green salve across the kid's fresh ink- eight legs of arachnid monstrosity that looked to be emerging from the kid's right shoulder, as if about to pull its hairy body from within the meat of his upper arm. Upon closer inspection, one would be able to see that the tattoo was covering the scar of an old wound, some sort of animal bite. The salve Lita was smearing generously across his shoulder was drying clear and made the ink look wet. "Twice a day." she was saying, voice a bit stern as she closed the little jar and handed it to him. "Keep it clean and if you have any issues come back an' see me." She managed a wink and stood, stretching her back a little. She was barefoot as usual, wearing a little black sundress, raven curls pinned up into a messy bun despite the rebelliousness of a few stray curls which fell across her temples and neck. "What'll I owe you?" the kid was asking as he twisted his arm to see the tattoo, grinning like a fool. "How 'bout a dance." she managed, following the kid as he made his way towards the door. "Deal." he was saying as he pocketed the salve. Lita managed a little sigh as she slid up next to Jax to check her next appointment.
Haeli walks in silence along the harbor. She could have gone back to Cenril the night before, could have taken a boat this morning, and yet she had not. Her wings are held carefully, despite the fact that Vydarri’s magic had done its job and mended the broken limb. The heavily scarred avian is still sober after last night’s crash landing on the docks, surprisingly enough. She is in Rynvale, a place she hasn’t been to since she “died” by Desparrow’s blade. Mercurial eyes sweep over those present, taking note of those perusing the art books. Lita, perhaps because the avian had overheard the youth’s query, becomes the focus of her stare for a long moment. Haeli is hesitant as she takes a few steps nearer to the desk, to the portfolios. She is garbed in a simple, lavender gown that has certainly outworn its use and her feet are bare. There’s no need for shoes, when one flies, after all. Cherry painted lips part briefly, but in the end an odd shyness takes hold and she simply stands there.
Lita is thinking Jax should stop flirting with the (albeit cute) elven girl and help her decide on a tattoo. At least then Jax could maybe get back to work. There are two others sitting in chairs with books on laps but the appointment book is empty. They seem to be in a spirited discussion, chatting about the artwork in said portfolios and neither seems overly determined to get in to see her right away. Which is fine, a breather sounds rather nice after having spent the last hour finishing up that spider. Dark eyes flicker towards the front door as a newcomer makes their way into the shop and the avian gets a once-over of haphazard judgment that Lita doesn't bother to try and hide. But her smile is warm and friendly as she lifts a hand to wriggle her fingers at the girl in a little wave. "Hey there," she calls. Jax, bent over the counter beside her in conspiratorial whispers with the elven girl, pops his head up long enough to look sheepish and Lita waves a hand at him in playful dismissiveness. "What can I do for yah?" she asks, turning her attentions back to the girl.
Haeli flinches as Lita speaks to her, as if startled despite having been completely and totally aware of the other. Her mouth moves silently for a moment before she seems to find her vocal chords. Quietly, the scarred avian says, “I would… Like a tattoo. Something good, something nice… to remember someone special by. Someone that’s no longer in my life, but still means the world to me…” Her words are punctuated by the drawing in of her lower lip, which she abuses with her teeth. The faint odor of alcohol still clings to her, though not as pungently as it had the night prior.
Lita knows all too well what it means to be lost in the memories of love and goodness that churn your insides into torturous repitition without a second thought. She's also not a stranger to unhealthy doses of whiskey. "Sure, hon'." she says softly, moving around the counter to reach a gentle hand out to the girl and hopefully guide her through the shop towards the bench she'd been previously sitting on. "Why don't we sit down and talk about some possible things you might want? Maybe some colors?" She nodded a little, trying for encouragement. Jax was giving her a look, brow quirked and Lita waved a hand at him again. She'd guide the girl towards a seat and perch next to her, reaching for a sketchbook and a stick of black charcoal on the work table. "I'm Lita," she said softly, flipping the book open to a blank page. "What's your name, darlin'?"
Haeli almost recoils when Lita reaches for her. In fact, her muscles tense visibly as if she might flee. Then, then she relaxes with a slow, calming inward draw of breath. Her head lifts as she nods, flashing the scar that crosses the width of her throat. The avian follows Lita over to the bench, sitting down carefully as her gaze settles on the sketchbook and charcoal. It’s weird, talking to someone. Someone other than Krice or Ranok. There is a slight tremor in her voice as she answers, “Haeli.” Even as she answers the question, her gaze is turning toward the door as she considers a quick exit. She is skittish, to say the least.
Lita isn't really any good with names. It's why most people she associates with get some sort of nickname that's helps keep her memory in check. She writes 'Haylee' in the top left corner of the page, knowing she's probably spelling it wrong because common wasn't always her first language. She notices the girl's skittishness, that familiar urge to run and find someplace safe and she knows that any words she might use to try and sound reassuring would likely fall on deaf ears and who was she that this girl should believe a word she says anyway? So instead she opts for distraction. "You said you wanted a tattoo that would honor someone you cared for..." she kept her voice soft, as if they were the only people in the shop. "...why don't you tell me a little bit about them."
Haeli doesn’t feel the tears that build up along the rims of her eyelids. Not really, anyway. There’s that stinging, so familiar and yet she’s become so accustomed to it that it’s simply another part of her life. Out of habit, she grasps for the air beside her, as if expecting there to be a bottle present. There isn’t, of course and the tears fall freely, moistening her cheek. A bitter smile teases the corner of her lips. “He was my savior, once,” she says quietly and her gaze falls toward the floor, to her bare feet. “More than once, but I was… am too damaged, too careless…” She stops for a moment, trying not to allow a sniffle to surface. “I have ways, addictions that… I cannot overcome.” She’s thinking about them, what they were, their friendship. Not him. She exhales shakily. “He is a warrior that fights for what he loves, for those he cherishes. A hard man to get close to, but an easy man to fall in love with. He is passionate, but he has an aggravating way of concealing his emotions… of being so… so damned… stoic!” The last word is said sharply, almost as if it’s a curse. “Part of me hates him as much as I love him.”
Lita is struck for a moment by their similarities. And who was this girl waltzing into her shop who may or may not be able to read her mind, her heart, her soul? The charcoal in her hand trembled a little in her fingers and she'd hide that by brushing her hand across the blank page, looking down at the book as if in great though when really her brain was reeling. She knew what it meant to be too broken, to be a darkness and a monster and to fall hopelessly and irrevocably in love with someone so good and a soul so beautiful that they made you feel almost guilty for wishing they could somehow maybe love you back. And he had loved her back, hadn't he, they'd been friends once and then more and they'd saved each other, maybe, until she'd broken that too. She swallowed hard as she listened, reminded herself to breathe. Off to the left of the page she was sketching a few flowers, trying to stay calm despite the tension in her shoulders, trying to remember what it meant to be professional. "Forget-me-nots are beautiful," she managed, blinking down at the page. "And they represent memories of true love." Another attempt at proper breathing as she shifted slightly in her seat. "A watercolor piece would go gorgeous with your skin tone, all blues and purples with a touch of green." She was still sketching. "Is there a particular place you want the tattoo to be?" She glanced sideways at the girl at last, didn't say anything about the tears. She didn't want to draw attention if she was feeling subconcious. But she looked over the girl's shoulder and caught Jax's gaze, gave a sharp nod towards the door and he nodded in understanding and as quietly as he could, he begin ushering the few patrons there out the door, murmuring words about them coming by later and that the artist would be busy for a while.
Haeli is unaware of the echo she voices of Lita’s own heart, unaware that the time they’d briefly crossed paths in Larket, it was Krice of whom Sabrina had been speaking to her about. And so she is surprisingly oblivious to the other’s state, to the hitch in her breath as the avian tries to push away those feelings that bubble to the surface. Her head turns, mercurial eyes meet with Lita’s as she lifts her chin and tilts her head away. A pale finger touches the end of the scar beneath her right ear. “Here,” she murmurs softly and then traces the white line. “And perhaps a thorned vine?” She levels her gaze with the artist. “Love can be a wonderful and beautiful thing, but with the same breath that it gives you life, it will rip it away too.”
Lita has no intention of revealing to this girl the source of her discomfort for the moment, should she even be so inclined to ask. Part of her wanted to reach out to brush the backs of her fingers across the girl's cheek and wipe those tears away. But one just didn't act on such a personal gesture with a person you had met only seconds before. No, she'd settle for a reassuring smile instead, dark eyes following Haeli's finger as she points to where she'd like to get the tattoo. She tilted her head slightly, inspecting the scar, as if she could already see how the ink might fall against it. She was chewing at the inside of her lower lip, brow furrowed slightly as she turned the artwork over in her head. "You said you wanted something good, something nice..." Lita reminded her in a gentle voice. "While the give and take of love is certainly true to form, I don't think a thorned vine would fit into your wanting something good and nice." She flickered her gaze to meet the girl's eyes again and then tapped the charcoal against the page of the sketchbook for a beat. "But perhaps we could do the forget me nots upside down, perhaps a little branch of them, the stem falling from your hairline just behind your ear there," she nodded to where Haeli's scar began but didn't dare reach out to touch her, fearful that such a gesture might scare her away just yet. "I can do a trail of petals falling across your clavicle here," more pointing. "It'll still be beautiful, but it will speak to that loss." Her voice hitched slightly on the words there at the end, perhaps a bit apologetic, and she turned her head away a moment to clear her throat. "This would leave you room to expand on it later if you wanted, also."
Haeli frowns gently at Lita as she speaks and lowers her gaze again. “You’re right. Nice. Thorns… Thorns aren’t,” she agrees, though the words are spoken quietly and are heavily weighed with emotion. As the artist makes her suggestion, the corners of the avian’s mouth tease upward faintly. “That sounds lovely,” she says after a few moments. Though Lita had not reached to touch the beginning of that scar, the avian’s hand returns to it, fingertips pressing against the flesh. She remembers the look on his face, when he first saw it and cringes. “I like that. Let’s do that, can we?” Something crosses her features as she thinks for a moment. Then, thinking of his eyes… the avian looks at Lita. “Is it… possible to fleck it with gold?”
Lita had not thought that she might know the person Haeli was missing so heartbrokenly (that's a word now). She usually tried to keep a healthy distance between herself and the meaning the art held for others. She didn't want the stories to influence the artwork but wanted the art to speak for itself. While it might hold a deeper, more personal meaning for the wearer, it also needed to speak to those who saw it. And that was her job. Which her head and her heart had all the potential to get in the way of if she would let them. She was glad Haeli was agreeing about the thorns. While it was ultimately her decision and Lita would give her the tattoo she wanted, there was a responsibility to make sure she'd be happy with the work ten years from now. She nodded, settling the sketch book with its quick drawing of forget me nots on the work table and wiping her hands on a towel. "Like stardust." she agreed to the request of gold. "We may have to do the gold in a second session, once the original piece has healed, but it can certainly be done." Scar tissue was always a bit tricky to ink and Lita wanted to get it right. "I've got time today if you want to start on the piece or we can make an appointment for a day that might be better for you." After this conversation, she didn't think girl was inebriated. Maybe she'd gotten a little out of control the night before but who was she to judge anyone's life choices.
Haeli is far too oblivious, far too centered in her own misery and self-destruction. Even now, the avian, who could tell when Krice was simply keeping his mouth shut about his feelings, remains oblivious to Lita’s own suffering. No, if she knew… if she was aware of their shared ache, she might have stopped, might have left even. After a moment, she leans over slightly to peer at the sketch, mercurial eyes studying it. Her lips press together before parting for a soft sigh. It’s a gorgeous drawing. “I have nowhere else to be,” she says finally, in lieu of the other’s query of appointment. There is no one waiting for her anywhere.
Lita had left these lands for a couple of months with the precise purpose of trying to overcome her heartache. Now, hearing of this girl's pain, a pain which uncannily mirrored her own, she was reminded just how hard it was to forget some things. Her right hand lifted of its own accord to brush the silver infinity pendant which hung about her neck and she managed a brief smile. She was at a loss for words, simultaneously wanting to run from her own hurt and ease the girl's suffering. Only one of those options had a chance at success anyway. So she reached for a few pins on the table and stood to move beside the girl, her movement cautious if only not to spook the woman. "I'm going to pin your hair up." she explained as she gingerly gathered the girl's blonde locks and pinned them up and away from the side of her neck. That done at least she moved to gather various pots of ink to be at her disposal: a dozen or more little glass containers of ink in all manner of shades of blue and purple, light and dark, and a few different shades of green. There was no black. Lita had the sudden desire for this particular piece to be free of the constraints of outline, perhaps not unlike its recipient. She moved nearer a larger jar of needles nestled in a sterile liquid and then resettled on the bench facing Haeli. "I'm just going to clean the area, okay?" It wasn't quite a question, as she was already lifting a damp cloth to the girl's skin. She felt the need to explain the process all the same, felt like any sudden or unnecessary movement might frighten her away. She touched her thumb to the girl's chin gently. "Okay, just tilt your head to the left a bit for me," she directed the girl's movements a little. "Perfect. That's not uncomfortable, is it?" She laid the damp cloth across her knee and picked up a needle, choosing one of the green hues to start with.
Haeli nods quietly to Lita, flinching at first when the artist reached to pin her hair up. A moment later, she manages to relax a little. Enough, at least, that the act of moving her hair out of the way becomes easier. Her wings are carefully adjusted too, as not to get in Lita’s way and when her hand touches the avian’s chin, Haeli tilts her head away from the other. “No, it’s not,” she says, and the last word wavers as the tears start again. Not from pain, though. No, it was that mutual ache the two shared. When Lita began to work with the needle upon the avian’s flesh, there was, surprisingly, no reaction from the winged creature. Despite her skittishness, the scarred avian has a remarkably high pain tolerance. The feel of the needle sewing the ink into her flesh tickles in comparison to the pains she has suffered previously. She wants to speak, but instead she draws her lower lip into her mouth and suckles the tier of flesh. The avian remains still, allowing her to work.
Lita certainly understands the need for finding an external source for an internal pain. All too well sometimes. It was why she'd become an adrenaline junkie of sorts in the last few years, perhaps. There was little care held for what danger she might have to overcome, only that there was a thrill and excitement that could far outweigh the pain, even if only for a moment. Just as she'd mentioned she started with the needle at the base of Haeli's hairline, just behind her ear, letting the green ink follow the natural curve of the girl's neck down towards her throat and clavicle. There was one slightly curved serpentine line in the center and three more lines that branched off from there. A larger segment of color arched back slightly towards the girl's shoulder and she colored it in a few various hues as a leaf stemming from the flowers. She worked diligently, carefully, following the picture in her head rather than the image she'd sketched previously. Occasionally she would stop to lift that damp cloth from her knee and touch it to Haeli's cheek, quietly wiping away her tears to keep the water from making the ink run before it had settled properly. The blues and greens came next, three forget-me-not flowers arcing across the scar tissue as if they were falling across the girl's skin rather than being painted on. She was careful with the detail of colors, diluting the inks as she went, using darker shades to let the image make itself clear. It was a bit more tedious than precise line work but certainly managed a more striking creation. She usually lost herself in her work pretty quickly and it didn't take long for what little conversation had existed between them to desolve into a flurry of concentration and color as Lita was drawn more and more into the work at hand. She'd apologize for that later, perhaps. Time was a construct unrecognizable as she worked, though occasionally she'd lean back a bit to inspect some part of the tattoo she'd been working on as it related to the whole piece. She'd stretched her arms backwards, flexing her shoulders and then she'd be right back at it. It would likely be a couple of hours before she'd finally lean away from the piece, using that damp cloth to wipe the last of any excess ink from the girl's skin, and feel satisfied with what she'd done. The skin was beginning to get red around the work and they'd definitely have to schedule a second appointment to add that gold Haeli wanted but Lita was dropping the used needles into that jar of sterilizing liquid and reaching for a mirror, holding it out for Haeli to use to inspect the work for herself.
Haeli closes her eyes at some point while Lita works, and it isn’t until the final swipe of the cloth that they open once more. Eyes moistened with tears fix on the artist as the avian reaches for the mirror. Craning her neck slightly, she looks at the ink emblazoned into her flesh. She can see the puffy redness of the irritated skin, but that is a minor inconvenience in comparison to the lovely work done upon her throat. She blinks a time or two before her gaze moves to Lita once more, and this time that sad, wistful smile is more genuine and certainly not forced. “How much do I owe you?” she asks quietly, silvery gaze studying the woman’s features.
Lita is reaching for a little jar of that green salve. It's only green because it has aloe in it. She opens the jar and gently smears a generous portion onto the fresh tattoo. "Use this twice a day for at least a week. Keep the area clean." She handed the little jar to Haeli. "Tell you what, come back in about a week when that heals up and I'll add some gold across it for you. Then we can talk about payments, okay?"
Haeli ’s nostrils flare, taking in the soothing scent of the aloe as Lita spreads it across the ink. Taking the jar, she folds her hands around it and holds it against her torso. “Okay, I can do that,” the avian says quietly and then glances toward the door. She frowns faintly. “Do you have a suggestion of where to stay? Before, when I came to Rynvale, I’d stay with Ranok. I’d rather not see his face and I don’t much care to return to Cenril. Not right now, anyway. I don’t think I can.” Because that’s where she usually crossed paths with that maddeningly stoic warrior they had in common.
Lita would later blame all of this hospitality on Meri's being a bad influence on her. Or maybe it was having spent the day with Hudson's twin little kidlet toddler girls. Maybe it was just her own heartache being reflected back at her. Whatever it was, she was nodding at the girl, her brow furrowed slightly. And before she could stop herself or think about what she was saying, the words were tumbling past her lips, "I've got an extra room if you don't mind a little walk down to the beach. I've got a little villa, off the beaten path. There's a private beach and orchard and it's pretty quiet out there if you don't mind some alone time." She smiled softly.
Haeli ’s vocal chords freeze at Lita’s words and she blinks at the woman. Once, twice, even a third time at the hospitality she has extended. “Are… Are you sure?” the avian asks quietly. Honestly, the sound of Lita’s villa is so very tempting: it seems like the perfect getaway. A more childish part of the avian, a side of her that has been buried for so long, almost breaks the surface. She’s almost tempted to suddenly wrap her arms around Lita. Instead, she curls her fingers into the cloth of her gown. “I would… I would like that, if you’re sure. Is it… an apple orchard?” The name of the fruit brings with it a wince, as if the mere thought of apples bothered her.
Lita didn't have much of a hand for gardening. She paid people to keep up with the orchards. "There are a few apple trees." She swallowed hard. She'd made a point to have those planted special. "But that's not all there is." She was a little glad the girl hadn't hugged her. That would have been worse somehow. "I don't make a point to keep food at the house anymore." Since she'd been turned, really, aside from a few lapses in judgment. "But you can get some things from town here. I have to close up shop but if you come back this evening we can walk down to the beach together." She would have given the girl directions. It wasn't as if she kept the doors locked anymore. But Chio was there on his own and he was more likely to bite one of the girl's limbs off than accept her presence on his territory.
Haeli wrinkles her nose at the thought of apples. “I’ll do that,” she says quietly, struggling to keep her voice from breaking. “Is there anything you’d like, that I might be able to pick up for you?” Eventually, the avian might put two and two together. Maybe. Or Lita would simply have to tell her, but that was an entirely different subject. She tries to muster a better smile for the artist.
Lita was about to say no but then she remembered Chio and she softened a little. "Actually, yeah, if you stop in at the Barrel, ask Simon if he's got any jerky in and tell him it's for me. He'll add it to my tab." Chio was a sucker for jerky. "Otherwise, I'll be fine." She wondered if maybe she should warn Haeli about the mutt but figured she could breach that subject on the way to the villa. Or maybe not. Chio was usually a surprise even to those who knew about him.
Haeli nods quietly to Lita, making a note to go by the inn. Whether or not she’d pick up another bottle remains to be seen, but for the moment the avian seems stable enough. For now. “Thank you,” she says again and then she turns, slipping from the tattoo parlor to wander the town in search of sustenance for herself and jerky for a hound whose existence she does not yet know.