RP:Girls Tattoo Night
Summary: Impromptu gathering at Soulskin, Lita's shop. Loravelle and Mahri end up with fresh ink and Lita gets a new dagger from Svard. Nortengaal and Xiembantointh contemplate future tattoo plans of their own.
Xiembantointh had meandered toward the glass display case to admire the work there just when he heard someone shuffling about and then a door opening. He sets eyes on a woman with her arms full and doesn't even hesitate as his long legs close the distance in a few strides in order to help the woman, "please. Allow me," he excuses while taking the box from the lady and following wherever she instructs him to set it down. Gently, he places the box on the display case and his contagious smile full of joy returns as he holds a hand out for a shake, "no worries, I understand. My name is Xiembantointh, I go by Xiem though," there is a shrug from his broad shoulders before rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand. "Right," he starts, "I'll get right to it. Have you ever tattooed a dragon in their human form and if so, does the ink remain through the shifting back and forth?" Then he wonders in the back of his mind if whatever he gets tattooed would also show up in his dragon form, just stretched out and disfigured looking. That would not be ideal.
Lita manages a thanks as the stranger takes the overflowing box and sets it on the worktable. Even if the help was unnecessary, it's a charming thing. She must have makes a bit of a surprised face at the introduction of his name 'cause thankfully he offers the nickname instead. She was horrible with names on a good day, let alone ones with twelve syllables. She takes his hand and offers her own in return, "Lita." And thankfully again, straight to business. Guess she was wrong about the tourist assumption. "Yes." She answers gleefull. Though Mythayus' tattoo had been so many years ago. "Though in truth, he didn't spend much time in his dragon form, from what I remember. Though I've ink'd plenty more lycans and no problems with their changes. I don't know if the process is anything similar," her knowledge of dragon lore is pretty limited. "I don't think there'd be much a problem." He looked outwardly older than the usual sort that wandered in but from what she did no of dragons, that likely didn't mean much. "What are you lookin' to get?"
Mahri had been planning on visiting Lita and her shop for some time now so here she is, walking through the door to find the artist already talking to a prospective new client. She'll offer Lita a nod once she's noticed and a quick glance to the stranger before wandering off to look at the trinkets and jewels then snoop through the tattoo designs
Lita offers a wink to Mahri as she catches the woman's entrance. She'd been expecting to see her around after their last few conversations. She's fine to let her browse a bit but she side-steps towards the display case to scoop a handful of half-finished projects (some temporary tattoos and stickers) from the display case and into the box on the worktable, before turning her attentions back to Xiem.
Xiembantointh is used to the ways people shape their faces when they first read or hear his name and it is of no bother to him at all. He had given her a respectful handshake with some firmness and she will find he has a few interesting rings decorating his finger. Nothing gaudy or menacing, but it is a remainder of his nomad type style now that he is without his long hair and a long beard to match. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lita," he genuinely offers and is delighted to hear she has previously tattooed a dragon. Xiem doesn't know who this 'he' might be, but he doesn't press the issue and merely nods a couple of times as she recounts the story. There is an awkward pause as he considers her question and what it means, but if he wants to get it right, shouldn't she know the story? It is unusual that he openly shares about his late wife with a stranger so soon, "I would like to have something that honors my late wife." It is just then that another woman enters the shop and he offers a warm grin her way as well before returning to the conversation at hand with Lita, "would you like to assist her first?"
Loravelle wonders if she's barging in and being disruptive. She hopes not. Just in case when she does step into Lita's shop, she predictably keeps quiet as a mouse but not hidden in a dark corner like one. Those display cases are full of neat things that she wants to take a look at, with hands folded behind her back so she won't accidentally make the glass all dirty. Leo is probably on his way in too unless he's chickened out from their bet.
Lita softens some when Xiem mentions wanting to get a tattoo that honors his late wife. Maybe it was because she too had gotten a tattoo to honor her late wife. "I think that's beautiful." The touristy stuff might be what helps keep the lights on but the personal pieces are the ones she lives for. When he menations 'her', Lita glances again at Mahri with a smile. "She's actually on the books to get some work done." She glances across the worktable- it's a little bit of a disorganized disaster at the moment. She shuffles through a few pages of abstract colors before finding a couple of sketchbooks and setting them in front of him. "You're welcomed to stick around for a bit. I have a couple pages of sketches here, you can see if the work's something you might like and if you want, after, we can sit down and talk about getting a piece made up for you." Because art, like all great things, took time. And if he didn't like her work, she wouldn't be offended by that either. Better to know before it was permanent. Lita is not used to having so many people in the shop at one time. She doesn't hate it, she's just not used to it. She hears mouse's entrance but hopefully Mahri will keep her entertained for a minute.
Xiembantointh notices another lady enter the establishment and he also gives her a warm smile of greeting before turning his attention back to Lita. There is a nod of understanding on her scheduled work and his smile spreads in confidence that he has come to the right place if she is so busy! "Of course, Lita," he accepts the sketch books and glances over to the sofa he had spotted earlier. "I'll just be over there… thank you," it seems to be touching to him that she has taken such an interest already and he politely excuses himself around Mahri and Loravelle in order to reach the sitting area. Once he eases down and gets comfortable, he starts carefully flipping through Lita's sketchbook.
Mahri isn't in a hurry at all. In fact, she has no idea what she even wants to get done. It's a reliefe when Mouse walks in and she heads towards the woman to drag her through the shop with her with a hurried, "I need your help. I don't know what I want." Plus, then Lita can consult with her new client and Lora can help with ideas in the mean time.
Leoxander would be reminded of that whole ‘when it rains, it pours’ phrase. It just so happened to be on that particular day that impromptu plans carried them across the channel and back to Rynvale that the shop that was their destination was busy. At least, in the sense that there were other clients with the same idea. As tempting as it was to keep heading down the road and disgrace the terms of a lost bet, the rogue entered the shop a few minutes after Loravelle did, dressed in the usual simple blacks only one blade visible on a steel buckled belt while a few others remained concealed. “Looks like we nearly missed the party.” He managed to keep his tone neutral despite the invisible wall of the dragon’s scent that hit him the moment he crossed the threshold, steely gaze fixing upon the other male in the room as he took a seat to browse the books.
Loravelle has come a long way because she doesn't make some sort of startled, mouse-like noise when she's dragged further into the shop by Mahri. Quite the opposite, if you ignore the little jump of surprise. She's hurrying along to keep up with Mah, eager to help. “What are your options?” Hearing that Leo entered too finally, she peeks over her shoulder at the pirate and has to suppress a smile because she knew what he was going to get.
Mahri would have probably stuck her tongue out at Leo while she 'stole' Mouse away.
Lita gathers the temporary tattoos she'd stowed away earlier and makes her way over to Loravelle. She spreads them out on the display case for the girls to peruse. "Here, I made this for Meri's little but I thought you might like to pick one for your first tattoo." Sort of. There's about a dozen, an assortment of animals and flowers and a couple of more artsy celestial bodies. She'd been toying with what did and didn't work on the transfer sheets. She'd made a lot more but these had been the ones that came out the best. She lifts her gaze at the pirate's entrance and lifts a finger of warning to point at Leo. "You, play nice." Half request, half warning. Kyori had already put a nice hole in the floor she'd had to patch, she wasn't scrubbing blood off the walls again too.
Mahri huffs out a breath at Lora's question but doesn't miss that press of lips to hide a smile when Leo walks in shortly after. Mahri quirks a brow in question before she's looking at the pieces Lita sets on the case for Lora to look at. They were, for herself, way too feminine.
Lita did mention that they were for Meri's kid. If she made some for Mahri, there would have to be snarling teeth and they'd probably be painted in the blood of her enemies. Or something.
Xiembantointh glances up from the sketchbooks when Leoxander walks and he receives the same warm smile of greeting from the old looking dragon wearing a human face before going back to looking through Lita's artwork. He doesn't suspect Leoxander is a lycan and would have no issue if he found out the guy is. "Oh," he hums in admiration as he has found some interesting work.
Svard enters steadily. A hint of mild surprise touches hardened, austere features, and the glacial cut of his stare makes a measured across all those assembled. He is a tall man by common standards, with broad shoulders, wearing the modest dressings of his profession. A woolen gambeson belted at the waist. Simple slacks. A worn, black-iron hammer hanging from a loop at his right hip. It's a body comprised of slabs of corded muscle, brutish and strong, and everywhere betraying hints of ink veiled beneath his attire. Dark runes peeking from wrists, and neck. Slashes and shapes of ebon along the ridge of his left cheek, over his brow, and down his squared jaw. Still, for those that consider him openly, he'd offer a measured smile. The furies were quiet today. Pleased, as they were, by the fire. He makes his way towards Lita, though, and the smile begins to die along the way. The woolen-wrapped bundle in his gnarled hands, blackened by soot, coming up to lay upon the counter.
Loravelle has her attention split, but Mahri's tattoo comes first even if she's excited to look at all of the temporary tattoos Lita spreads out. The flowers particularly have her attention as anything floral tended to draw her in right away. One of those temporary tattoos just so happens to be a drawing of a rabbit, so to silently answer Mahri's silent question, she taps it with her finger and shoots another glance at the pirate. He's getting a rabbit somewhere. “I won a bet...”
Leoxander raised his hands in a defensive gesture, the brand on his left palm covered in the black wrappings that hinted at a glimpse at the Blackguard emblem of crossed daggers. “I’m a’ways nice, Ace.” And apparently a hell of a liar, too. No kind smile was returned Xiembantointh’s way but there was at least a lack of aggression in the stare that lingered in the graying man’s direction. Rather than peruse the display cases, he made himself at home in the vampire’s parlor and began searching for those hiding places she might keep some alcohol around, inspecting some of her possessions and supplies as he did. He couldn’t help the low chuff of breath that came in result of Lita offering Loravelle a ‘stick on’ print made for Meri’s cub.
Mahri looks up when the door opens again and silver-grey eyes widen slightly at the corners at the stranger walking in. She will push one of the pretty flower pieces towards Lora all the while tracking the new comer's movements from the corner of her eye, "What do you think of this one. For you, not me." Mahri glances at the rabbit, Lora and then Leo. "Perfect"
Leoxander might be opening a random bottle to sniff at when the door swinging open yet again drew the lycanthrope’s focus Svard’s way. Somewhat protective of his unorthodox pack, he paused to watch the large man approach Lita, searching her way for some recognition in her eyes.
Nortengaal finds himself doubly surprised this evening. First, to have wandered across this absolutely delightful place of art-making, and secondly to find it quite well populated with people he actually knew. These people are however occupied in various ways, and he’ll lowkey greet them in turn as he makes his way around the increasingly full space to check out the art on display, muttering to himself. “Hmm. Maybe its about time i think about getting me some ink.”
Lita quirks a brow at Lora when she taps the rabbit and motions towards the pirate. "Oh?" She has questions but there's a smile of amusement on her features even without them. "Done." She slides the rabbit piece sideways from the others, setting aside for now. As Lora's attention is stolen again by Mahri, Lita lifts her gaze to find Svard finally. How long had it been now since she'd commissioned that dagger? For a moment she's distracted by the pirate pawing through random drawers in the shop, but unfortunately he wouldn't find any booze upstairs. Cal kept the good stuff below. "It's done?" She asks, turning her attention back on the blacksmith. There's an eagerness in her voice, even as she already knows the answer to the question but she doesn't move to unwrap the bundle he's laid out. The ashes she'd given him for the piece had been the last she'd had of her hound and if it hadn't worked, for whatever reason, well then she might let Leo cause some trouble in the shop after all.
Loravelle was used to crowds if that crowd was her gaggle of sisters, nieces and nephews, innumerable cousins and uncles and aunts and – you get it. But she likes to think that between Mahri, Lita, Leo, and the others that she met through Leo were like some kind of found family, so she isn't as on edge as she might be at the realization that there are strangers in their midst. Mahri's distraction of one of those floral temporary tattoos is a helpful blessing, too. She can look at it and not let her anxious nerves get the better of her. “It's pretty...” Every single floral temporary tattoo she looked at atop that case was pretty, really. She busies herself with arranging them the way she might arrange flowers in a vase and envisions what they might look like permanently somewhere on her.
Xiembantointh felt the establishment suddenly crowded and after considering the art presented to him, he did find a few that interested him… Although, now does not seem the time to consult and he simply stands back up and places the sketchbooks where Lita had lifted them from before making his way towards her to politely excuse himself, "pardon me." He smiles apologetically to those around her, "I'll be back, Lita." With that he waves a goodbye to her and exits to the shop.
Lita said to Loravelle, "I can make you a more custom one if you want." As she watches the girl arranging the floral options. "That way you can wear it a few days, see how you like it before it getting it done permanently."
Lita waves to Xiembantointh as he takes his leave. She would have consulted with him more on his peace but with so many people in the shop tonight, she wasn't sure it was a place he'd likely want to have such a personal conversation. "Anytime." She assures him. "Usually."
Svard spared a moment to consider those nearby. This gaggle of people. Their voices distinct, new, sharp and soft and sound. Mahri is watching him. Leoxander, too. He meets the latter's eyes. Familiarity has a sound to it. An innate harmony. He's not shy about his intrusion but he is, now, more aware of it. Still, unsmiling, he looks back Lita's way. The svelte artist's eagerness comes with a muted grunt. "Not easy work to give the dead new life." Came the answer. His voice is like gravel. Like something sunk claws into his throat and tore the sweetness from it. His pale stare tracks her own. It'd not be difficult to perceive an unspoken ask made. "You suspected so when you asked it of me."
Xiembantointh exited to the north.
Leoxander was starting to get just a smidge suspicious when the door didn’t seem to want to stay closed for long. Fortunately he’d recently acquainted himself with the werebear, and Nortengaal would be the only one Leo didn’t observe with a note of caution, though he’d never let his guard entirely down. He lifted his recently shaven but once again stubbled jaw to acknowledge him subtly. Lidding the bottle with a slight crinkle of his sun spotted nose for whatever trace of scent he’d found within, he looked plainly disappointed that he hadn’t stumbled on some whiskey or rum, yet. Did she actually use proper disinfectant? Seemed to defeat the purpose of two birds - one bottle. “Looks like you might need some assist, Ace.” It was her business. He wouldn’t trample on it. But he had the knowledge to help her set up her inks and tools if she needed the rogue on hand to get some coin in pocket and ink on skin.
Loravelle 's eyes were primarily fixated on the floral design Mahri slid over to her, as it was one of her favorite blooms. A cluster of peonies. She would like to hold onto that one and see where it might look nice on her, but when Lita mentions a custom one, her eyes light up. “Plum blossoms are my favorite.” She didn't miss the tattoo artist sliding that rabbit tattoo aside, and tries not to look any more amused than she already was about her victory. Instead, she turns the peony temporary tattoo...she thinks right-side-up toward Lita whenever she's free so she can say, “I like peonies too.”
Leoxander figured Loravelle was in good hands with Lita and Mahri there. He wouldn't be far, but he did make his way back toward the door, lighting up an herb laced smoke from a box of matches that only had a few left.
Lita glances over Svard's shoulder at Notengaal. More new faces. Though Leo was still seated someplace, so at least he knew him. On most accounts she respected the pirate's opinion. "I only wanted the option." She says finally to Svard. Though she hadn't, she'd wanted the impossible. Dared it. With deliberate caution she unfolds the wool wrapping from around the dagger and stares down at it without reaching for it, carefully measuring the composure of her excitement. It is somehow exactly what she'd asked of him and yet more beautiful than she'd imagined with the sketch she'd given him. She rewraps the piece in the wool covering. She'd have to admire it more at length later. "Your reputation doesn't do your work justice." It's a compliment, probably. "What do I owe you?"
Svard grunts sharply in a frustrated, displeased response. But, more than this, his eyes narrow scrutinously. He hears them louder. The furies. Little hands of the Old Gods. A debt paid. A new debt forged. The inbalancing of the scales see-sawing between the pair. He steps away from the counter and lays his hand to rest on the blunt, menacing head of the hammer. A trademan's tool. A roughened, brutal reminder of the implements necessary to forge steel to form. It is Mahri and Loravelle he defers to. Leaving, for the moment, the ladies to conclude their business. What Lita must pay will be exacted later - unpleasant as it will be for most company. In his wander from the counter, further into the shop, his eyes brush over Nortengaal. The appraisal measured steadily before his attention turns to Lita's things. In this way he represents, somewhat, a mirror of Leoxander's path. Only he is not familiar with Lita enough to know her or her possessions. But he browses through them all the same.
Lita said to Loravelle, "Plum blossoms and peonies?" She nods her understanding. "I can do that. Do you want a more traditional bouquet or something more abstract? Maybe something that follows a natural curve?" She'd quirk a brow at the girl here, glad to see the pirate taking a quick smoke break outside without hearing that particular remark. "That would be gorgeous on you."
Lita eyes Svard as he opts to peruse the shop, similar to the way Leo had. Why did everyone think this was okay today? She narrows dark eyes at him, following his path for a moment but doesn't say anything. Finally her attentions turn to Mahri with a soft sigh. "I know you've been wanting some new ink for a spell. What you thinking for your next poison?"
Loravelle wasn't going to be nosy and ask about the weapon she glimpsed that strange man gave to Lita, but she's curious. Not about the dagger, but what else he could make because he clearly looks like some sort of smith. If she were less shy she might ask if he can make something like the metal and jeweled floral pieces decorating her hair in its current winged updo, but she keeps her mouth shut, instead touching one of them to make sure it's still sitting correctly in her hair. Lita's questions have her attention now and she's uncertain. “Following natural curves makes sense...” But where? “Is...Would my whole arm be too much all at once?” A foolish question, but her knowledge on tattoos is practically nothing.
Lita said to Loravelle, "All at once? Yes." It wasn't an insult by any means, just a matter of fact. She'd seen larger, more hardened men with plenty of tattoos not able to sit still long enough or withstand enough pain to get an entire arm piece done in one sitting. Not to say it was impossible, but especially as a first tattoo, it was highly unlikely. "But we could lay out a stencil, see what you like, and do it in pieces over a few sessions."
Lita said to Nortengaal, "Sorry, I know it's a bit busy tonight. You said you might be interested in some work?"
Mahri's keeping part of her attention on Svard simply because he could be more of a threat than anyone else in the shop. Mostly because she doesn't know him and that hammer in the right, or wrong, hands could do some serious damage. The large man moves away and wanders through the shop and Mahri's attention is partially claimed by Lita again when she asks about what the lycan wants. "Not sure," is her response accompanied by a lift of her shoulder. "Thought you might have some ideas, but Mouse here seems more ready than me anyway." She's conceding her time with the artist to the other woman, given it is Loravelle's first time and all.
Loravelle grins at the thought of multiple sessions. That meant more opportunities to visit Lita. “Like pieces of a puzzle?” That sounded more her speed and far less frightening. “I'd like to do that sometime...” She looks around at the crowd gathered in Lita's shop and quickly adds, “When you have time.” There's a distinct lack of Leo here. When did he slip out? Believing herself safe in Mahri and Lita's presence, she isn't too worried, even with a hammer-toting smith and a werebear that she knew nearby. Mahri's words have her blinking confusedly, then her eyes go wide. “R-ready? Me?” Looking from Mahri to Lita, she tries not to look nervous but she's failing at that. “Are you sure I'm ready?”
Mahri said to Loravelle, "No reason to wait, is there?"
Nortengaal , for what it’s worth, is at the moment completely absorbed in all the works he can see. “Ooo, that could go on my forearm, and that one could go on my shoulder maybe? Some of these twistier ones could work winding around some of my scars.” These thoughts and more cross his mind as he peruses the artwork. His reverie is broken by the proprietor’s speaking to him, which he admitatley was not expecting as she seemed to have her hands full already. A skilled multitasker it would seem. “Oh! Um yes, i did. I’m not sure what though, you have such beautiful work on display its hard to pick just one idea.”
Mahri wasn't unaware of the werebear, at some point he'd get a familiar nod of greeting.
Lita honestly doesn't know much about Mahri. Certainly not enough to suggest a tattoo design that would mean anything for the woman. While she's known of Mahri for many years now and they've seemingly run in the same circles, the two haven't really spent any time together until recent months, and only because of Leo (and Lora). "I have lots of ideas but I'm all for someone's piece being something personal for them. Don't need anyone waking up a month or a year from now and regretting a piece." It was one thing to add something to an older piece to let it grow with you. But it was always a little sad when someone came in wanting an entire cover-up piece done. Especially if the previous work was actually good. It felt like erasing a little bit of that artist's history. "I take it sunflowers don't get you as excited as this one?" She says, a bit teasingly of Lora. No offense meant. "I've been working some origami styles and some watercolor pieces. The techniques for that one are a-" insert curse of choice here- "but they are gorgeous when they come out."
Loravelle nods to Mahri. “T-that's true..." The peony temporary tattoo she had her eye on before is looked at again, and she tries to envision those larger blooms illustrated on her skin woven around smaller plum blossoms with their branches. She didn't need Leo to keep an eye on her while she got a tattoo. It might be a fun surprise when she catches up to him later. “You're right. I...I should do it.” Lita's tease has her laughing a little. Maybe one day she'll ask for something less girlish, but for now? Flowers. She wants a garden on either limb.
Svard looks up. He's been rummaging through a small box with needles and other things. They are brushed aside with the back of battered, blackened fingers. The cold cut of his stare lifting. It finds Mahri then, and Lita after, before slicing back to Mahri. There's an earnestness he presents now. For all the wild intensity of his look, a smile softens it, and his voice lifts faintly. "Flowers, growth. The Wilds. 'Tis good."
Lita said to Mahri, "Pretty sure Leo would try to kill me if I put ink on her without him here." She taps a finger against the temporary tattoos for a moment, seemingly debating the idea. "Let's do it." She grins, nodding at Lora to follow her over to the worktable where the ink and tools are in some sort of organized chaos. "How about one flower for now? To get used to it?" Leo might be less inclined towards violence with that. "We can build around it from there.""
Mahri snorts at the thought of Leo being mad Lora did something with her body she wanted to do, but that's between them. She felt more than saw the look Svard gave her and she looks up to catch that gaze with her own. The smile is a surprise and she blinks. "It is," she agrees.
Mahri said to Lita, "I'll think about it," what it was she was looking for, but she's not an artist like Lita and Leo are. "I don't think Leo is going to mind Lora getting inked with or without him here. I'll stay for it and he can blame me for encouraging her deliquency."
Loravelle hadn't thought much about flowers as 'the Wilds' since she was raised around orderly, organized gardens, but she loved and appreciated them for their symbolism. “Plum blossoms represent perseverance back home...They're so small but they start blooming in winter. Peonies mean prosperity...” And she looks away from the smith the instant Lita suggests one for now. “Yes please,” and she follows. It's when she's about halfway to the worktable that it hits her like an unpleasant gust of wind. This is going to hurt. Probably a lot. She isn't tough but she's gonna pretend to be... Peering over her shoulder at Mahri, then back at Lita once more, Lora asks, trying to mask some of her nervousness. “...It's like a bunch of pinches, right?” Her hand had a very tiny black dot of ink placed into it by Leo several days ago, and that felt like being pinched. “I can do this,” she quietly murmurs, mostly to reassure herself. She quickly adds for Lita to hear, “I don't scream if you worry about that...I might cuss though. I'm sorry.” Loravelle is gonna say so many heckin' swears.
Lita would clarify that Leo might just want to be a part of the experience, not that he wanted to control what Lora did or didn't do with her body. But she can't read Mahri's mind. Instead she glances at Svard, who has taken it upon himself to rummage through things. Apparently she needs to invest in locks. She focuses her attention on pulling a few colored inks for Lora's flowers. A few varied soft shades of pink, a pastel lavender, black. She's only half listening to Lora now, already drawing the vision of Lora's flower in her head. When she mentions screaming, her smile softens though. "It's okay if you need to. Plenty of people have." Swearing was of course allowed. Maybe encouraged. "Just, if you need me to stop, tell me. I need you to tell me." That part was important. She couldn't feel the pain Lita would, she wasn't an empath. And if Lora focused so much on trying to be strong instead of listening to her own body, well, Lita didn't need to be dragging her unconcious to a healer. Bad for business and probably friendships. "Thanks, Mah." She manages finally, for the woman's offer of being here too. And then she'd pat the seat for Lora to join her, taking up the tattoo gun in her hand. "Alright, plum blossoms for today. I've an idea in mind, if you'll trust me to do it. Whereabouts you want it?"
Loravelle takes Lita's instructions to heart. If it's too much she'll have to do the thing she rarely did in times when she was uncomfortable and speak up. ...Probably with a swear or ten sprinkled in. “On my arm. Eventually my whole arm.” To her that meant Lita could start anywhere on her arm once she's rolled her left sleeve up as high as she could, exposing one skinny, pale arm almost to her shoulder. She sits down afterward, and isn't sure what to make of the tattoo gun in Lita's hand. What in the world was Leo's knife trick from before? There were special tattooing tools? Maybe it'll hurt less than that tiny knife prick. Oh, if only Lora knew. “A-anywhere you think would be best on my arm...”
Lita had been lucky to befriend a very skilled tinkerer and inventor back when she'd opened her shop. The tattoo guns are operated via foot pedal and it hums softly against her palm as it vibrates gently but it's a sensation she's long since gotten used to. Unfortunately for Lora, the watercolor pieces Lita has in her mind for the floral piece require a technique which uses multiple needles operating in tandem at once. She doesn't tell the girl it will hurt more than using a singular needle. Having no exact frame of reference for the pain, it doesn't seem like knowledge that would help her, only scare her. Fortunately for Lora, the parts that will be painted with this tool are not large and the colors aren't an extremely bold choice, so the skin won't need to be overly saturated for the effect to come through. Lita turns her left arm a little, choosing the outside of her upper arm for the piece. "Here." She says, reaching for a cloth dipped in disinfectant to wipe across Lora's skin. "There'll be three smaller flowers," she points out the spots on Lora's arm as she talks, "here, here, and here. And then I'll swap the needle and do a branch to connect them."
Mahri finds a spot opposit Lita to stand by Lora, ready with a hand to squeeze if she needed it. Mahri glances towards Nortengaal and offers, "You should get a bear."
Loravelle figures a large part of getting a tattoo is keeping still and letting the artist move you where they need to do their work, so she tries just that, keeping herself still but not like a perfect statue while Lita turns her arm. The disinfectant feels chilly, so she involuntarily shivers. Hopefully she doesn't shiver like that when tattooing begins. Mahri is her hero today when she moves to stand by her, and she thinks she's ready to go. “I'm excited,” she says, even if she's obviously nervous as well. Grateful too, because Lita must have some extreme amount of patience to put up with Lora's nerves, and she's grateful for Mahri being near as well. “I'm ready too.”
Lita adopts a singular focus in the midst of Lora's new tattoo. She tries to take a particular care, knowing it's her first piece. The spots where the flowers will be, at first are just blurs of painted color, a fade from light to dark and back again as she dips the needles from one color to the next and back again, not caring if they muddle a bit, as that's the effect she's going for anyway. They're not large, and she works quickly and effeciently, occasionally glancing up at Lora's face to double check she's okay but she'll mostly leave that for Mahri. After a while, satisfied with the little patches of color, she leans back, rolling her shoulders a bit as she changes out the needles for a singular one, dipping it into the black ink instead. "Alright, this bit will take longer, since it's more precise." She clarifies. She wastes no time touching the needle over the patches of color, this skin likely already numbing a bit. The outline of the flowers are thin black lines, smaller than the smears of color themselves, connected by a split knobbled branch. When it heals, from afar, it will look as if the black outline had been added to incorporate a burn or birthmark, making the contrast of the piece look both girlish and tough. It suited Lora, that way. A little delicate and entirely deceptive.
Nortengaal had, for the most part, gone back to looking at the various pictures and daydreaming about what sort of thing he should get and where, what would work well with his darker skin etcetera. Mahri’s words take a moment to register over the new, low buzzing of the needle and his own spacyness, but once they do he chuckles. “That might be a bit on the nose dont you think?” He pauses to consider it for a second. “Still, could work with the right art.”
Svard sets something down - but not where he found it. There's no thought paid to it as he crosses the shop to, instead, observe Lita's progress with needle and ink. Silently, he looks on, drinking of the scene. Attention paid not only to the work itself, where he's taken an angle to observe, but also Loravelle's reaction to the needle. The hardened features of his face impassive.
Loravelle , as promised, doesn't scream, but the instant that tattoo gun touches her skin and her arm feels like it's on fire and being stabbed by a million tiny knives, she inhales with a sharp hiss and grits her teeth. Her first word isn't a swear while Lita works. Instead it's an, “Aramoth, give me strengt-Ow. ...Ow,” followed by a string of murmured swears that hopefully only Mahri and Lita can hear, being so close. She balls her right hand into a tiny fist and bites down on that to prevent embarrassing, shrill screams that she might make otherwise, and the corners of her eyes look watery. Is she crying? No. She'd say she wasn't, but gods above did her arm hurt. As much as she'd like to watch Lita work, she can't bear to look and instead has her eyes on Mahri, trying her best to look like she's handling this well. She only turns to look at Lita and examine her arm while the tattoo artist is in the process of changing out needles, and looks confused by the pink spots of color first. She doesn't turn away from watching Lita work this time, curious to see how she brings the piece together with black ink, gritting her teeth or murmuring something about how painful it is throughout. But she endures, much to her surprise, and those comments about how the tattoo hurts are mostly replaced with compliments to Lita and thank-yous. It still hurt though, and she can't imagine how sore her arm is going to feel once it's all done.
Mahri's lips quirk into a knowing smile and reached for the bitten hand with her own to pat it rather than pull it away from the grip of Lora's teeth. "You did good." For a first timer. "You'll be ready for your next one soon enough." Mahri glances up from Lora and Lita's work to see Svard watching as well. For some reason, she felt an inordinant amount of pride for the vampire's work as if she had anything to do with it. "Thinking of getting something done?"
Svard slides his attention to the question and considers Mahri.. The answer is a slow nod of affirmation but his reservations are obvious. A displeasured rumbled grunt leaving him before he folds his arms. "Friend of hers, then?"
Lita doesn't usually feel pride in her work. Not to say that it's not a thing to be proud of, rather she's just grateful to share a little bit of beauty in the world. "I'm glad you like it." She says softly, using a clean cloth to gently wipe excess ink from Lora's arm. Once clean, she covers it with a bit of mild salve and wraps it fairly loose with gauze. "Keep this on it for about a day, then clean it gently. Keep it clean and it should heal up in a few days." She squeezes Lora's hand gently then. "You did great. And when you're ready, we'll add more to it if you want."
Mahri's not going to interrupt the after care instructions, but she'll answer Svard over Loravelle's head. "Family." Which, if anyone knew Mahri well enough, meant quite a bit more than just friends. Glancing down where the fresh ink is now covered, Mahri starts to consider her own piece and what she wants it to represent. Family seems to be a good theme to start with.
Loravelle feels a little light-headed, but good otherwise if she tried real hard to ignore the pain coming from her arm. “I love it. Thank you, Lita.” She wishes she didn't sound so, well..mousy. Extra mousy now, but hopefully she's able to convey how appreciative and grateful she is. While her arm is cleaned and wrapped, she listens intently to the instructions Lita gives her. “I'll do that,” and she squeezes Lita's hand back during that reply, grinning. With the tattoo wrapped in gauze, she figures it's okay to very carefully pull her sleeve back down. “I have to repay you for this somehow...” It's something so special and significant, that she has to give something just as important in kind. But what did she have equal in worth to this? The thought has her falling silent again, mulling over what she could make or get to return this gift.
Svard seems to take note. His eyes linger. The consideration obvious. Then, and only then, does he recline back some. Now his stare shifts to Lita. Watching her. The care she takes. The squeeze of her hand upon Loravelle's own holds his attention briefly. Saying nothing, his eyes look to Lita's own, as if measuring her.
Lita doesn't look up at Mahri when the woman gives Svard that answer but she stiffens slightly as she finishes Lora's bandage. She's not sure she'd have given Svard the same answer to that question. Not that didn't make it untrue, in its way. Leo, Lora, Mahri, this pack they'd built and fought for, regardless of who they were or the choices they made, they showed up. But family wasn't a word Lita used anymore, hadn't in fact since Hanan had passed. She swallows hard. "You don't." Lita says softly for Lora's benefit. "Just, enjoy it." It was rare that Lita requested actual payment for ink these days, at least these more personal ones. The dagger, an exception made for a trade and still the scales were left unbalanced. "You're next." She says, looking up to Mahri finally. "Once you figure out a piece you want."
Loravelle wants to question Lita then, and ask if she's sure, but that was one of those questions Leo was starting to drive out of her unending list of questions she happened to bombard people with when she didn't feel so shy. “Okay,” she nods, then tries a one-armed hug for Lita if the other woman will let her before getting to her feet for Mahri to take a seat since it's her turn. Her eyes rest on her arm, covered in its long green robe sleeve and the gauze hiding her new tattoo beneath it. She'll treasure it. Head turning, her gaze lingers on the door. “I should probably head out...” Who knew where Leo had gotten off to, but it felt strange not being near him for a long stretch of time. Lora isn't clingy. She swears.
Mahri'll trade places with Lora once she gets up, but not before resting her hand lightly on Mouse's shoulder. "Did good. Tell Leo I'll catch up with him soon." She flashes a brief smile at Lora before settling into that warmed spot and rolling up the sleeve of her left arm revealing a network of scars that upon close inspection looks like chain links. Silvery eyes look from them to Lita, "Can you work with this?" Meaning the scars.
Lita flickers a glance to the counter where the dagger is still wrapped and she's already itching to inspect it further. She's little patience when it comes to things she wants anymore. She lifts dark eyes to Svard then once more but her words are directed to Lora specifically. "You know, he could probably make you some pretty..." she already knows she's going to butcher the word but she tries anyway, with a faint smile, "...kanzashi." She'd done a bit of research, maybe.
Lita changes out the tattoo gun with a fresh needle as Mahri takes Lora's spot and she leans forward a bit, turning Mahri's arm as she looks over the scars there. She nods finally, her thumb arcing across the faint pattern in the skin. "Sure. Might need a bit of touch-up work to get the ink to really set in." Scar tissue could be finicky that way. "Depending on what you're wanting. Any ideas?"
Nortengaal gives Lora a little wave as she prepares to leave. “Nice piece Lora, good first choice.” Nort has been thumbing through the sketchbooks left behind on the counter, alternately paying attention to the works therein and the work occurring in front of him. He’s never seen this sort of thing done before, and it’s very interesting to watch it unfold. Mahri’s question is of interest to the man as well, adorned with scars as he currently is, and he's heartened to know its not going to be much of an obstacle.
Loravelle felt like she had endured some right of passage between Lita's tattoo and Mahri's praise that she did good. It's difficult for her to describe that sense of pride and belonging, but it feels good. Right. It has her grinning even if her arm still felt horrible. The sound of a familiar word has her reconsider leaving for the night.“Kanzashi?” Her eyes light up at that word, and her attention settles on Svard, then. Her hair is conveniently pinned up and decorated in a plethora of metallic floral pieces, so she carefully frees one from her hair that serves merely as decoration and doesn't double as a means of holding her hair up like some of the others did. It's an old piece inherited from her grandmother, its metal tarnished to a dull grey and the kingfisher feathers inlaid within it faded from their brilliant blue color. That didn't make the piece any less precious to her. “If you can make things like this,” she carefully holds the hair pin out for Svard to see, resting flat in both hands with the pointed end angled toward herself even if it isn't sharp at all, and decorative end pointed toward him. “I would like some more one day. I have a box of feathers from back home for it.” Whether he answers or not, she tucks the pin back in its proper place and turns her attention to the werebear. She's seeing him around more often and it's nice, she thinks with a grin. “Thank you, Nort.” Then, Lora gives a parting wave to everyone before slipping out to track down a wolf.
Svard regards the exit. Though, mostly, he'd regarded the pin. There was a sudden sharpening of his features. The challenge made. The cut of his eyes measuring it plain. Then, abruptly, came the furies. Louder now. Pronounced. And were it only so easy to dismiss them away, to keep them where they belonged. The world was a wild place. Earth, sea, and air. The elements blending and moving and changing throughout all of creation's place in eternity. He drummed the tips of his fingers along the ridged surface of the hammer's broad head. He considered iron and copper. The shop's interior considered only briefly before he looked on to the girl's departure. Kanzashi. There is less discontent in his words as he offers them. Only turning to consider Lita towards the end of what he offers her. "Can do Kanzashi." And then as his eyes found her own. The warm darkness of her stare met with the icy cold of his own. "Doesn't pay the debt."
Mahri will wait for an appropriate time to describe what she wanted: A tree with deep roots and branches reach upwards with a strong trunk and somewhere incorporated into the branches, or the roots, the word family. For now she is staring between Lita and Svard, brows furrowed with concern when the smith tells Ace the debt is paid. She had a feeling this wasn't about gold or silver, but something else entirely.
Lita can't help a faint smile at Svard's words. He reminded her so much, still, of another. It was somehow easier when he didn't. "I'll get you the feathers." She takes his confirmation that he can make the hair pieces as agreement that he will. But she affords more consideration to his statement of this debt between them. "Yours or mine?" Lita stares down at Mahri's arm for long minutes. She presses the heel of her palm against her arm, turning it slowly, measuring the image in her head against the canvas she's to work on, letting it mold itself to fit. She nods, settling on the design and sets to work, her conversation with the smith for the moment left unsettled. The silhouette is a simple well of black ink at first, stretched across Mahri's skin, a new scar in its own right. From the top of it she draws the threads branches, thinning more and more as they grow outward and upward. They seem random, scattered, but she's diligent and precise in their placement. At the other end of the tree's trunk she draws out the roots she's asked for. They echo the interwoven texture of the branches overhead and as requested, she lets the roots knot the word 'family' into their twists and turns. She takes careful care over those scars. And when it's finished after some time, she leans back a bit, letting her finger trace a bit of the branches where, while not noticeable at first, there's the image a wolf howling, silhouetted in the negative space between the branches. It would only be noticeable at close inspection. From what little she did know of Mahri, she knew that not unlike herself, the woman seemed to prefer her solitude, whether by choice or circumstance these days. And she hoped in some small way that this might be a reminder that she was at heart, firmly rooted in her family. Whatever- and whoever- she chose to honor with that label.
Svard is caught by a shadow then. It sweeps across his masculine features. Grim. There could be an earnestness in Lita's question. Still, it hangs, unanswered. A tension rising as his manner becomes displeased once again. The furies remind him this is how it always will be. The shortcomings of those "mortal" in comparison to the Gods. Still, whatever the cause of that displeasure, it is Mahri's presence that appears to hold the conversation at bay once again. An exhale leaves the Smith. A breath drawn in. And his eyes stray, almost against their own accord, to the needle in the svelte stabbist's hand and the work that she manages. "It's good." He says finally to Mahri. There is a begrudged nature to the admission. His eyes do not return to Lita again for now.
Mahri sat for the tattoo with her head back and eyes closed. The scratching of the needle barely registered except for the slight squint of her eyes when a particularly sensitive spot was hit. It would heal much faster than Lora's would, less than a day if that, and infection was not a concern so she'd kindly refuse the salve and gauze if it's offered. When the wolf looks at the piece, she's silently in awe at how strong and delicate it is. She can make out the word 'Family' within the system of roots and it's only a moment before the hidden image of the wolf appears. That brings a smile to her face when she looks over at the woman who did such exquisite work. "Thank you," to both the artist and Svard. Rolling down her sleeve and swinging her legs over the edge of the chair, Mahri reaches over to rest a hand on Lita's shoulder, much like she had Lora's. "If you need anything," here her eyes shift towards the smith then back again, "Let me know. That's what family is for." Whether she knows Ace well enough or not, Leo did and thought highly of the vampire. In turn, Mahri would include her in that circle..
Nortengaal lets out a low whistle of appreciation as Lita finishes up her work on Mahri’s arm. “Now that is gorgeous.” Lita truly does fantastic work, and Nortengaal is quite looking forward to having her work her art on his skin - when he’s able to actually pick what he wants at any rate. Still, watching her work has been a treat all its own, and he’s thankful the opportunity presented itself.
Lita lifts a hand to Mahri's on her shoulder. She was grateful that Mahri had trusted her, not just with the piece but with the scars that now sat beneath it. "I'm learning." She says honestly. It had taken her time to find her way back to the world again but so far, she'd been grateful for it, and for them. She stands a beat after the woman, stretching her arms over her head before dropping the used needles into a jar of disinfectant and reaching for a clean rag to wipe her hands with. "All good. Just uh, if you see Leo before I do, try to talk him off any proverbial ledge for Lora, yeah?" She's kidding, mostly, maybe. She takes a few steps back towards the display case, a hand laid over the wool cloth covering the dagger Svard had brought in initially.
Lita said to Nortengaal, "I promise it's not usually this busy." She offers a smile. "Anytime you want to come back and hash out some idea, I'm usually around."
Nortengaal said to Lita, "Oh no worries, I got to watch an artist in their element, more than worth the time spent. I'll most definitely be back at some point, once some of these ideas coalesce."
Mahri watches Lita a second or two before nodding and heading towards the door. Obviously the two had something to talk over, "I'll do what I can," regarding Leo. "Catch you later, Lita." And then she's gone, out the door to wherever it is she goes these days.
Nortengaal closes the open sketchbook in his hands and places it down on the counter with the others. With a nod to the rather stoic gentleman and a smile to the shop owner, the man makes his way out into the night, probably to get a drink somewhere fun.