[Flashback]Sort Me Out (Syllke)

by **Mara** on May 15th, 2012, 6:03 pm

Wrapped beneath the linens of his cot, it was the skin tracing over him that warmed him, flushed his cheeks and kept him speechless. He deliberated every time those fingers skimmed against his skin if it would set aflame. His heart was still diminishing from its manic hammering so that he was able to catch an adequate lungful. Watery blue coins flickered open and shut, fluttering between the blinds of his moist eyelashes. It took him a moment to meet Syllke's eyes as he sensed the vibrations of his speech trembling against his arms tucked against the Vantha's chest. "Hmmm?" he hummed his reply to the disruption in a sprightly tone, too peaceful to be his own. He had not been as mindful of what the artist was circling against the curves of his collar and shoulders. His focus has been on the feat itself as it rocked him into near sleep.

He budged, willing himself to emerge from his daze, and propped his head up by a hand still sprawled across the bed. He looked over his bare shoulder, "A tattoo?" he clarified. Mara browsed over Syllke and the current of his exposed chest with a pleased exhale. His unburdened hand stretched out to draw an 'x' with his finger against the left side of the other’s chest. "I don't know." his voice was nimble in observable mischievousness. "It's rather painful." he depressed the point of his nail into his skin only enough to nip, with the suggestions of a smile tugging about the corners of his mouth. "Not to mention," a pierced brow rose questioningly "you're the artist. I have the artistic talent of a blind and fingerless painter."

He knew he would only be disagreeing to an already won match. Syllke would be resolute, his mind set, and Mara's arguments were never meant to win to begin with. The artist could jerk about his chest and break down even the firmest of column held structures. When he tried hard enough that is. He chose to spare him the effort. “But, if you really want one, I don't mind." He slid onto his stomach with arms folded beneath him, and head laid upon them to still behold Syllke. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we have all the materials that are needed.”

Mara had already known all that would be needed was some disinfectant, a needle and dark ink. It was not a terribly complicated process, but it was long and not incredibly pleasurable for most. His practice was limited, usually mindless attempts at accessible flesh. Typically he took a rather long time to finish, spanning the finishing product over a series of day, weeks or even months, depending on the size. He was not sure of what Syllke would be compelled to brand his skin with, had he not been so pacified he may have inessentially worried over the boy’s choices, and his own influence upon him.

"What were you thinking of getting?"

by **Syllke Skyglow** on May 18th, 2012, 10:56 pm

Syllke didn’t wince at the pinch, but he did chuckle. “Well, you must have some talent – these are beautiful,” he said, touching each tattoo in turn that he could reach. “And if I pass out, maybe you can revive me – with a kiss.” His lips went to the one on Mara’s shoulder that he had been tracing.

Mara shifted, though, and as he inquired what design Syllke might have in mind, Syllke’s lips continued on to kiss lightly the pattern that was closest, thinking before he spoke.

“Would you be willing to have another – we could share one. Like this.”

He scooted back just a bit and reached for the closer of Mara’s hands, pulling it forth and clasping it in his own. Then with his other finger, he traced an imaginary vine, that curled from above Mara’s wrist, around the joint and then up across the base of his thumb. His finger left Mara’s skin then, to trace around and down under his own thumb and around the joint and up again, a mirror to what would be on Mara’s skin.

“A vine, with small leaves. Where they join, the vine will curve, like this.” Again, with his finger, he drew a small invisible curve – half of a heart on each thumb, the whole no bigger than a grape.

Syllke pulled Mara’s hand up to kiss his knuckles, one by one.

“So even when we are separated, we’ll each be half of one whole. Like the geode.”

His eyes were searching Mara’s, wondering if he was going way too far. But regardless of Mara’s reply – yes or no – that wouldn’t change a thing about how Syllke felt.

by **Mara** on May 19th, 2012, 6:27 am

Taken with his request, Mara felt heavy, full of a reaction that began to lump about his gullet. It was simple enough, a lover's gesture that prickled against his skin in germinating foliage that he would confidently allow to trim his hand and the hand that was tailored so finely in his. Mara would entitle him a fool, think him naive, but he was fluent in words richer than any his ears had ever been touched with. If they had spoken of this at any other time, he may have been subdued, smirked and continued as customary. Instead, he nodded "As you wish." An unfilled and dressed hand slipped up over his reddening face to safeguard himself. He rounded into Syllke, pressing his cheek against the curve of his neck and chest. He was hushed for a long moment, unsure if he would laugh or weep and neither audibly surfaced.

The quiver of his tongue as it danced behind his rigid jaw threatened to disgorge a secret too dangerous to beseech for a profit, but too inflated to guzzle back down. Aware of what endangered his ideals and would only crawl back into his soul like a rousing infection, something would go wrong. It always did, and when it did it would be his fault for not stopping it at this very moment, or the many moments before. He had not set out for this, but stumbled into it on fate's cruel whim. Now he suffered not in solitude, but in the exposed light of the scrutiny of an artist that had scooped up in the snow not even a season ago. He established himself as much a liar as he was a murderer.

Rose shaded petals designed inaudible feelings against the artist’s torso. The configuration of his mouth spoke more than his voice would let, miming the words, I love you with a stumble of a breeze, before kissing the flesh below him. He bound him, a familiar grip around the flowing and trim skin he was learning so well. He clasped his hands behind his neck and tilted his lips to capture the Vantha's once more. He bit at the already swollen entrance and then appeased it with a vigilant tongue until he had his fill.

Dragging away with an abundant sigh and not a second look, he lifted from the bed. Snowy sheets united around his waist and twisted about his unwinding legs as he readied himself to turn and slip into the crisp air. He gave a lasting stare to his formerly traced hand, envisioning the sight upon the untouched skin as a needle glided past the skin and heaved loving buds of red to replace with deep scaring ink. “Would you draw it, so I can just work through your sketch? It will look much better that way. You could even do mine that way. I’ll show you how. It’s not very difficult.” It excited him even more to think of Syllke placing his artwork upon his skin, leaving his own distinctive mark in his skin, just as his father had, but worth so much more.

by **Syllke Skyglow** on May 19th, 2012, 2:58 pm

”As you wish.”

To others, such an exceptionally brief reply might have implied a real lack of enthusiasm, or agreement – a passive laissez-faire of the soul that signaled that Mara was in neutral when it came to this – all of this, and not just the prospect of the tattoo. But Syllke would never take it as such. He knew, now from extensive experience, that his beautiful friend was the owl to his mocking bird. For every glib hundred words that fell so readily from Syllke’s mouth, Mara might let drop one – but it would always have significance, and be heartfelt. Mara did not jabber on and on just to hear his own voice or to fill the silence with sound. And to some small degree – very small, for now – Syllke was picking up on this valuation for peace, quiet, tranquility. Mara was unlike anyone else he’d ever really been close to in this respect – as in so many ways the other boy was unique. But Syllke was learning the comfort that could exist between two souls even when no words passed through the space between them. So Mara’s three little words – though not perhaps the three little words so lauded in song and poetry – brought quite the happy smile to Syllke’s face. He might have forgotten those lessons he was learning, and begun to babble about how they would proceed, but Mara pressed against him and it was impossible to think . . . of anything, other than how this felt, this union of two into one in a way that was so novel, so sublime and so seamless. The vine would be but a poor representation of how he was feeling, a visual of something he’d never be able to put into words and he knew better than to try. As Mara’s face nestled against his neck, his hand came up to run through that short brush of sable stubble, not pulling him closer but only joining them along another conduit. If touch was to be their primary line of communication, then Syllke was determined to form as many connections as possible.

Mara too was seemingly of quite the same mind, and for a few long moments that sense of touch - between skin and skin, lips and lips, fingers to body – was more eloquent than any impassioned lover’s plea set to verse or music or rhetoric. Syllke returned Mara’s kiss with no thought for anything other than the sensation on his mouth and things probably would have quickly become a re-run of minutes past had not Mara’s been the first to break away from that embrace. Syllke let him go. He always would, though perhaps that wasn’t always wise – but being who he was, Syllke couldn’t conceptualize holding Mara in any way against his will. He nodded readily at Mara’s request.

“Sure, I’ll draw it. That would be perfect. I know exactly how it will look.” A more dubious look crossed his features though, as he added, “Are you sure you want me to do yours, though. I – I’d hate to mess that part up.”

But Mara had already moved away, to gather up the things they’d need and by the time he was back, a few minutes later, Syllke was biting back his uncertainty about the tattooing part. It wasn’t that he was more keen now to pierce Mara’s skin and cause him pain. He had simply concluded that it made the creative process more balanced. Even as naïve as he was, he knew that being one of a pair didn’t come without some amount of discomfort. And unfortunately, though he would never wish it, he knew he would cause Mara pain, and Mara would do the same to him. He need only reference the night before to know that. So as they set out on whatever journey lay ahead for them, he found it fitting that this symbolic attempt to capture some part of what this was all about should begin with both the beauty of something living and the sting of their precious blood.

Syllke was left handed and he joined their right hands and took up the pen that Mara had brought. With no hesitation or thought, he allowed his eye to direct the hand that held the pen and in no time at all an inked vine trailed across and under and over their skin. Tiny leaves sprouted and several delicate star like flowers, all perfectly mirrored from one arm to the next, and seamless in design. When he was done he set the pen down.

“There. Your turn.” His eyes, crimson swirled with his excitement over this act of creation, turned to Mara’s.

by **Mara** on May 19th, 2012, 8:00 pm

Mara appreciated the bends of ink across their coupled hands, before escaping the hold to prepare and begin the needed work. It would take some time. Enough time that both their minds would feel numb by the end of just the first vine. This did not trouble him, it was how he usually worked, consumed in his tasks, but he questioned how long Syllke could stand still under the sting of his slight and careful needle. He was willing to find out, to test his patients beyond just words. He was curious of all things Syllke.

He sterilized the needle in necessary alcohol and seated himself beside the Vantha. His leg bent beneath him while the other dangled from the beds edge, toes grating against the ground. The subjected hand rested against his thigh and a nightstand held their materials. He plunged the needle into the inky sludge and extracted it, letting drops dribble from its chin. He glanced up into the flattering crimson of Syllke's anticipating eyes. "Ready?" he asked.

He hung the needle over the virgin skin and perforated along the traceable line with a secure hand that drove ink in and pulled free a perky red bead. "Hands are quite tender, so just try and relax and we can take a break whenever you need." he assured as he began a steady pace, sliding metal with a pop into the sensitive skin of his hand and wrist. Each would have its own bite, the hand so yielding and full of nerves each impulsion would jolt up an arm, while his wrists were so fine and delicate that the needle would slip across bone when driven too deeply.

Syllke took it without much fuss, tensing at times, but never objecting. Mara soon recognized he would not ask for a rest of his own will. He wanted to give it to him earlier, but he also wanted to finish the work as to not drag out the procedure. He was tempted more than a few times to slide his lips over the reddening surface, but he knew better than to infect an open wound.

He completed the first skeleton of the thick stalk of the vine in around a bells time, wiping blood and spilled ink over the accomplished surface with a now sticky rag. "Are you ok?" He kissed the Vantha’s flushed cheek, admiring his orbs glistening and slipping into a smile despite his discomfort. "There is not much left, the leaves will take about as long and then I'll go back over to finish any missing patches." the work would only take about another bell's worth of time. He was content with most to watch the simple boil of blood over skins cool surface, but he could feel the discomfort that came with each prick, calming then resurfacing as time doled on. He would do as he asked, but hoped for his own for he could surely take pain better than he could pass it upon Syllke. “Do you want to rest for a while?”

by **Syllke Skyglow** on May 22nd, 2012, 3:12 pm

The first prick was anticipated but still surprising, and not too bad. The second one was better, and the third about the same. But as time passed, and the first of the microscopic assaults began to throb and sting a bit more, with each passing minute, it increased the sensitivity of the countless number that Mara applied over and over and over. Yes, indeed, the hand was a sensitive part of the body to endure such affront. Still, Syllke would not have asked Mara to stop. He wanted this done, very badly. And he realized it was best to do as much as possible in one stroke. Pain all at once was generally far better than pain spread out over time. So, he did not literally grit his teeth – it wasn’t that bad – but mentally he tried to build a little barrier of thought and emotion that would block out the greater part of the discomfort. He focused on each prick, preferring to watch than to look away. Of course, he needed to know how to do this, for soon enough it would be his turn to pattern Mara’s skin so much more permanently than the inked drawing that wrapped about his hand now. But the technique was simplicity itself – in fact Syllke was impressed at how easy it was to create something so beautiful and poignant. Once he had watched for a few minutes, the learning was really complete. He wanted to keep looking however, to implant this image in his brain, forever. It was significant, to him. The tattoo would be indelible, and regardless of what came tomorrow, or the next day, or week or month or years, he would always have this. Regrets (which seemed infathomable at this moment in time) or not, he would always have this visible reminder of the connection he had with this other, precious person.

Finally, the vine was done, at least in outline. Syllke didn’t know if another go round would be needed. But Mara straightened and looked at him. The healer had been so intent over his work that he had barely glanced at anything other than the spot he was working on. Syllke’s eyes were a bit blurred, the tattooing having gotten to him more than he would have admitted, perhaps. But that brief kiss helped enormously.

With a large intake of breath, he shook his head. “No, I’m good. Let’s keeping going.”

He did, however, steal another fortifying kiss from those talented lips, before Mara bent to his task once more. Time passed even more slowly and Syllke was beginning to regret the number of leaves he had decorated the vine with. It hadn’t seemed a lot, but with each one being inked it seemed one too many, At least they were tiny and only a few pricks were enough to outline and fill each one. The flowers came out looking really spectacular, and he was greatly pleased with the overall aesthetic effect. But by the time Mara was done, so was Syllke. Truly.

His hand and wrist were throbbing and stinging, and as Mara dabbed at blood and ink with a clean cloth, Syllke gulped and tried not to hiss. He couldn’t have been happier though, as he examined the design, twisting his arm to see it twirl about his extremity. He smiled hugely and planted another kiss of thanks on Mara’s mouth.

“It’s fantastic!” he exclaimed softly. Pulling back, he surveyed the pen marks on Mara’s arm, and bit down on his lip thoughtfully. His eyes lifted to Mara’s, as he asked, “You are sure? I – I don’t want you to say yes, just because you think you have to. If you aren’t sure, we can wait.”

by **Mara** on May 22nd, 2012, 6:15 pm

"You like it?" welling some pride at his finalized collaboration. He goaded loitering strands from his face and looked over the red and black hand. "You did well," his lips creased "really well actually." he accepted his reward with the enthusiastic kiss and inhaled his gratitude.

He felt content, honestly, dreamily, uninhibitedly content. It must have been what people felt on the eve of a new love, the single-minded corruption that invades a person. He was too drunk on the emotion and their actions he hardly had time to overthink or dwell on feelings of guiltiness.

Mara held out his hand flexing long digits as shadows danced over the bones, and swayed the vine painting across the meat of his thumb. "Yes I'm sure." he whispered and offered him the extremity. His eyes traced over the complete vine on Syllke's wrist. "I want this." it was close compromise to passions he could not express.

His hand was taken. Soft padded fingertips stroked his palms as they dragged him closer. It was a near mirror to how he had worked, but he was draped farther across Syllke's lap so he could work with his left hand. "Don't be nervous, I don't mind a little pain." the hesitation was palpable, but he pushed him onward gradually.

Unlike Syllke he was well aware of how it should feel when the first prick tripped past the first film of skin. The needle armed hand stilled and punctured, disappearing into his flesh. "Wait." he smiled at the only just submerged spike. He was being careful to not unnecessarily wound. He slipped his free fingers over Syllke's working ones. "A little deeper. Don't hesitate." The needle slipped farther in on his command and the familiar pinch juddered up toward his elbow. Glossy lips gasped silently, like the needle had dug just a little too deep "Perfect. Now just try and remember how that felt."

It was soundless for a while, as the artist exposed the layers beneath Mara's surface in such a literal manner. He did well, careful at first so the process was a bit lengthy, and occasionally he would drive too deep or too shallow and Mara would correct him when fitting. The mixed blood as well was stoic, the swirling simmer of his piping orbs would betray his enjoyment, but they remained focused upon his hand and each drive into him.

The pauses would come when Syllke would halt as a nerve was struck and Mara's fingers would flex or tremble or a princely globule of blood would gather and swiftly roll over the sides of his hand. Each time Mara would reassure him, sooth him back to confidence. "This is your first time, but you’re doing great. I'm fine; my body can take a lot more than this."

The rag was somewhat more blood sodden than his own had been when he was wiping the muddle from Syllke's hand. It did not shock him. He always seemed to bleed a little more when injured, when he did have other’s add to his tattoos they usually mentioned this. The artist seemed dazed or maybe just uneasy of Mara's pain. He was sure he would have stopped had he voiced even a murmur of discomposure. He knew better, soothed him when he could, and hardly tore his eyes from the act. His father had taught him well on parables of discomfort and application.

It was over and now half the day had dwindled away in the vacant space of Mara's room. They hardly noted, especially Mara, who was usually so vigilant to imperative niceties. The only thing that seemed important right now was Syllke. He looked over his completed and matching hand "It looks great, you’re a natural. Remember it is going to scab, so please do not pick at it. You’ll disturb the ink. We should wrap them for now.” he smiled and left him with his own peck of gratitude. "But first.” he laced their sore hands together. “Thank you." Reddened lines met for the first time to complete the mirrored design. "It’s beautiful" he looked back up to Syllke to watch him still following the curves of their greeting palms. He leaned in and seized his mouth once again. He could not help himself, it was becoming harder and harder to pull away even for needed air.

by **Syllke Skyglow** on May 23rd, 2012, 3:34 am

Mara’s simple, eloquent confirmation made Syllke’s heart flutter in his chest. He took that long, slender hand in his, and took another deep, calming breath. Despite Mara’s reassurance and encouragement, it was a long hesitant moment, before Sylke pushed down into that soft flesh. He was sure he felt it as much as Mara might have, and he bit his lip with vexation. The human hide was tougher than he had expected, though Syllke had carved up many an animal in his life time. Even the thinner skin of the hand was harder to penetrate than Syllke was prepared for. But that more skilled hand closed over his, and guided him. It seemed so cruel, and he did recall how each prick felt on his own hand and arm. But, there was a point to this, beyond even decoration, and Syllke pushed away his reluctance to wound his beautiful friend. If Mara said he could handle it, then Syllke would have to trust him. If the healer said push in deeper, Syllke would be foolish to ignore the one who knew what he was doing here. So onward they went – it was much more of a team effort than it had been when Mara wielded the needle. Mara was amazing, in Syllke’s estimation. Calm, cool, quiet, encouraging and instructing as Syllke labored over it. For one used to the creative process, Syllke seemed not to take as well to this medium – the flesh of someone he cherished. He was excited about the end product, but he was not especially taken with the means used to achieve that end. Again and again, his eyes rose to inspect Mara’s face, always checking for signs of too much. But consistently, Mara was reassuring, composed – if he was feeling a lot of pain, it sure didn’t show, other than the reflexive movements of his hand.

And then finally – finally – it was done, and Syllke was probably happier about that than Mara. Stabbing his friend over and over for so long was really wearing. He smiled in response to Mara’s praise of his efforts, and he had to agree – it did look good! It looked . . . perfect – just as he imagined it would. Mara kissed him a second time and pulled back too soon. Syllke had thought to nip gently at that soft flesh and as Mara pulled away, he accidentally bit too hard, and drew blood. He could taste it on his tongue.

“Oh, gods! I’m sorry.” He exclaimed, dismayed, and leaned forward to plant a far gentler kiss on the torn lower lip. “As if I haven’t spilled enough of your blood today.” His voice was clearly chagrinned, their lips meeting again, resulting in smearing the small amount of blood between them.

by **Valkyrie** on October 12th, 2012, 7:19 pm

Mara :

Syllke Skyglow :

You Will Be Collected if Worthy

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out.