Open The Ink Under My Skin

[Edreina]

Despite the fact that she still sounded utterly feminine, the way that she said things and the gravel she added to her voice created an uncanny imitation of the chagrined Myrian. In an instant with a splash, the little Otani was back in the sea. How she knew a tattooist on the Flotilla was beyond Edreina, but there was a game to be played. Jumping up - ignoring how sudden movements such as that still earned a groaning protest from her still slightly-bruised side - she grinned at Razkar and forcefully pulled him to his feet. "You're coming too." Grinning, she hauled her friend along after the Otani's song, able to move more quickly as the Flotilla was still barely awake. Something in the lyrics seemed ever so familiar, like she had heard the song before but only remembered the tune. When Uleru popped up to complete a stanza, Edreina finally remembered most of the next part. Stiffling laughter as words were lost and she mumbled her way through it, Edreina called out the next verse in something that was half-way between singing and simply speaking. Probably annoying to most listening... but fun, nonetheless! "So I signed on to a fishing ship My [mumbling] at sea I seen an Otani in the waves Reaching out to me Come [mumbling] in the sea she said Down on the Suvan's floor I’ll show you a million wondrous things that you never seen before!" They ventured from one side of the Anchorage to the other, passing through the inner ring into the area where the Paintedtides*If this ends up needing to be changed I'll change it. ^_^ I don't expect Razkar to know the pod names or Uleru to be too common with their habits so... most always moored together. This area of the Flotilla was always bustling with life as people woke early to paint or draw the sunrise or to mingle with their friends. It was also the part of the Flotilla that seemed to return to their cabins the latest. The old man's ship was adorned with dozens of hanging, drying strips of dyed cloth and a few half-finished canvases. No one was yet on deck, so Edreina paused, breathless and waiting for her Otani friend to rejoin them upon the decks. Somewhat belatedly - for she forgot that she had been doing it - Edreina released Razkar's rough hand with a blush. "Sorry about that..." She rubbed the back of her left arm with her right hand, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I got a bit caught up in the moment..."

[Razkar]

"Sorry about that. I got a bit caught up in the moment..."

Razkar would have mumbled a response if his eyes hadn't been fixed on all the sails. That's what they looked like, anyway. Dozens, scores of miniature sails bedecked and emblazoned with every color he could think of. There were canvases, too, stretched skin and parchment over frames that bore tribal images or pictures.

The Myrian cocked his head to one side and stared at what he assumed was some kind of seabird, brghtly colored and half-finished, it's body fading into nothing as the artist had got bored or went to relive himself or lost the muse or... whatever.

He found himself hoping that he finished it.

Steps on the deck, or additional ones, rather. Whoever's vessel this was, their work was obviously in high demand, though Razkar still couldn't translate the symbols and glyphs the Svefra used to denote vessels and... pods? Yes, that was what they called their clans.

The footsteps emanated from an old and bald man with impressive face whiskers, striding up from below decks and wiping his paint-covered hands. Razkar smelled the distinctive musk and sting of tattoo ink on him, and quick, shrewd eyes undimmed by age stared out at them from beneath bushy eyebrows.

Not to mention his own art. Patterns and inkwork, much of it looking older than Razkar had been alive, were emblazoned on his broad chest. Razkar understood quickly why they had been drawn here by that damn singing Otani. Whom, by the way, he flopped onto the deck, trailing shimmering pearls of seawater from her tail as she sat grinning, tail twitching lazily.

"Elder..."

Razkar nodded respectfully even as Pingere Paintedtide quirked a curious eyebrow, professional gaze instantly focusing on the lifetime's worth of ink on the savage's chest, and waited for Edreina to explain herself.

[Uleru]

The Otani pulls herself aboard, forgetting to rid herself of the long fishes tail, and rolls onto her stomach where she can better see this exchange. She knows this man with the carefully coifed moustache by sight but not by name. She has rarely seen him untie from the Flotilla, but the nature of the place means his ship will change location on almost a daily basis. But if she is wandering for a game or looking for tribute she sometimes inexplicably finds herself here. She finds the paintings fascinating and the fabrics beautiful, and has more than once begged for a garment for herself. And the last time she was here she begged him to draw a picture of her, which he refused of course. She wonders idly if he remembers, or if the new tail will throw him off. "Paintedtide", she nods respectively, pulling his attention down to the moulding laying on his deck, "will you do a commission for us? Here we have a lovley red-headed lass who wishes to be as artfully crafted as the Myrian. You do beautiful work, and her skin is fresh and new to the needle, what a combination that will make." she coos dreamily, rolling onto her back and looking up at the inverted, grizzled Sevfra. But this is a mistake, for she has caught sight of the hanging canvases and drying cloth on the lines, and the artfully decorated sails. She hums quietly with her hands folded over her stomach like she is stargazing, as she watches these works of art illuminate under the morning glow and stir as if alive with the lazy salt breeze. Effectively ignoring the man she is here to persuade. Pingere raises a bushy eyebrow and looks back to Edreina. Wondering about the girl who keeps company with Myrians and monsters.

[Edreina]

Uleru's explanation was adequate, but her rapidly shifting attention span did not allow her to finish. When Pingere turned his attention to Edreina, she found herself blushing profusely. He looked her over curiously, eyes darting to the Myrian and then to the cloth-gazing Otani. "So you want a tattoo?" His tone was matter-o-fact, no nonsense. Blushing still, Edreina wrapped her arms around herself and nodded. "If it is not too much trouble, of course." That's one thing about Edreina. If she could do things herself, she would. It was rare that she asked others to do things for her but this was one thing that she could absolutely not do for... to herself. Suddenly, Pingere broke out in a bushy grin. "No problem at all! I love giving such lovely ladies their first ink." He began to walk back into his cabin before stopping and turning in the door way, as if a memory kept him from passing over the threshold. "Where did you want it?" His eyes were narrowed thoughtfully, one hand on his whiskers. The fire-maned Svefra motioned to her stomach, smiling widely. With a nod, Pingere disappeared for a moment into his cabin and there was much bumping and scraping about as things were moved from one place to another. In this span, Edreina turned to Razkar and shrugged apologetically. "Sorry for dragging you about like that. I just thought you would like to make fun of me squirming under a wee little needle." She grinned and bumped his arm with her shoulder. "If you want to go back... I can direct you." She added this in a softer voice, fearing that she may have overstepped her bounds. But, before he could answer, Pingere was back with heavily laden arms. Under one arm, he had a crude wooden platform about two feet wide and a bit over four feet long with foot high legs, and a thick pad. Under the other he toted a large leather satchel, likely carrying his tools. With strength oddly beyond his years, He hefted the platform and set it up upon the sunny deck, nudging it ever so slightly with his toe to assure optimal positioning. He then sat the pad beside it and his bag beside that. "Come on over, Edreina." With a fatherly smile, he beckoned her over. After complying, he motioned to the platform. "Stretch out here, on your back..." This time, Edreina was somewhat unsure as she laid on the smooth wooden surface. Her nerves seemed to suddenly make themselves known. Was she actually ready for this? "What side do you want it on? Or perhaps the middle?" He went back to playing with his mustache after sitting on his pad, pawing around in his bag. "Right side..." Edreina's voice wavered a bit. How much would it hurt? "No need to be afraid." He grinned at her but Edreina saw the glint of fine metal out of the corner of her eye. Perhaps it would be better if she just closed her eyes... "Just put your arm up and stretch that side a bit..." Edreina complied, putting the arm over her head so that it covered her eyes. "Good..." There was the sound of rustling as he adjusted, pulling something out of his bag. "Now what is it that you want?" Edreina hesitated, taking a deep breath as the idea solidified. "Three black lines... Beginning separate up here," she motioned to just below her breast, "then coming together in a braid here..." she motioned to perpendicular her belly button, "then separating again down to my hip." It was pretty in her head. She silently trusted that Pingere would make it beautiful upon her skin. "Not planning on challenging me?" Pingere almost seemed disappointed in her decision. She heard him juggle a few jars about in his satchel before selecting and retrieving one. "No great mural?" "N-... Not this time." Edreina swallowed hard, tensing slightly as his fingers gently traced down her body, formulating. "Someone beat the stuffing out of you... Who was it?" There was a curious air to his voice as his fingers left her skin. Edreina jerked her head at Razkar with a grin, not really trusting herself to speak. "Huh...Hope you gave him a good lickin' as well..." Edreina blushed as the turn of phrase suddenly turned in her own mind into something so delicious she nearly trembled in public. Gods give me strength... The prayer was split between maintaining a proper frame of mind and not squealing like a little girl when he began. "Alright... Just hitch up your bindings and here we go." With a deep breath, Edreina tucked the binding up under itself so that linen covered only the bare fraction of her upper right breast. Here we go...

[Razkar]

Razkar's eyebrows nearly crushed his eyes out of view when she offered... was that an apology? For dragging him along to something she was obviously worried about? Did she still not understand him? He was about to open his mouth and voice that particular thought when Pengire returned and set up his padded table and his tools, working with the smoother and practiced efficiency of a true craftsman.

The Myrian listened quietly as the two Svefra talked, only one moving when the topic as to her fresh bruises came up. She jerked her head his way to answer the old man's question and Razkar grunted at his words.

"Yes, she gave good count of herself." He gave a her an appraising look and then a quick wink. "Has a way to go, but she..." he paused and rubbed the ugly purple mark staining his thigh "... she not have to worry about men forcing on her..."

The design was quickly outlined and Razkar thought on it, wandering to Edreina's side and staring at the smooth, pale flesh soon to be marred by... what, a braiding? That was what it would resemble, he supposed. Three lines coming together, then separating again, it certainly would look like one. He wondered about why that would be significant. Who it was for.

But those questions would have to wait. Edreina's face was tight, pale and her eyes shone with restrained fear. But he was proud to see that is was restrained. She was afraid, and despite of it she was still going through with this painful process.

Razkar squatted next to her and she felt his hand brush against hers as it hung off the table... then found its way within her grip. When she looked over, steady black eyes were looking into hers. Many would have found them frightening, soulless, especially surrounded by the scars and tattoos and piercings in the Myrian's face.

But there was no intimidation there. He'd even forgot about the Otani, like she was no longer a concern. She wasn't. His friend was scared, and with good reason.

"It will hurt." He said softly, voice low and hand gripping hers gently. "But nothing with have is easy, or with no pain. And I will be next to you."

There was a muffled and somewhat indignant "ahem!" from behind him, and the Myrian rolled his eyes.

"... and so will sea witch..."

[Uleru]

The Otani is pulled from her daydreaming with the light conversation between the tattooist and his soon-to-be canvas. She sits up and shuffles over to the side of the bench by the Sevfra's head. The back of the mouldings head becoming a conveniently placed brace for the strained elbow stretched up from her side. She could hear the tenseness in the woman's voice, but doesn't relate it to fear until Razkar kneels next to her and whispers encouragement into her ear. And Uleru sees once again the bond between the both of them like a tangible thing. She has never had a bond like that, but she can appreciate the glow of it. And she basks in the trusting warmth stretching between them. Until Razkar gets cocky enough to assume he is the only trustworthy friend aboard. "...And I will be next to you." "Ahem!" "... and so will sea witch..." Her body glows golden to match the rising sun and her own lazy contentment. Then the large hands of the Paintedtide descends with a small metal instrument that looks like it would be more proper to be held by a mortician or a surgeon. Uleru instinctively holds down Edreina's wrist, lest she lose nerve or reactively bludgeon the old man with her elbow. The old Sevfra bends over Edreina's middle and the design blooms under small strokes. He is incredibly dexterous with his precise movements, and his concentration is absolute. A clean white rag is produced to wipe away excess ink as he works, and other than this brief respite, she is sure the Palivar could collapse around him and he wouldn't notice. She watches in wonder as his skill and ink become a tangible work of art across Edreina's abdomen.

[Edreina]

When she had finally succeeded in brow-beating her curious eyes into remaining shut, they were pulled wide open less than an instant later in surprise. After feeling Razkar crouch at her side, Edreina was utterly shocked to feel his hand worm its way into hers. Looking over, she was surprised to see that the hard edge had vacated the Myrian's dark eyes. He was no longer trying to make her stronger or to teach her to be better. For once, he was letting her have a moment of weakness and was actually comforting her in it. It was weird. Is that what it was like to truly have friends? She... liked it. "It will hurt. But nothing with have is easy, or with no pain. And I will be next to you." "Ahem!" "... and so will sea witch..." Edreina laughed and gave Razkar's hand a gentle squeeze back. Having her friends there, Edreina felt like she could take on the world, let alone a silly little needle. Looking up, she could just barely make out Uleru's golden form. But, she felt the feather-light and insubstantial Otani hand alight upon her wrist, almost as if reminding Edreina that Uleru was there. Edreina could not see Pingere, but she felt him adjust on the cushion before leaning close, one hand resting on the skin of her ribcage. Here it comes! Edreina unconsciously squeezed Razkar's hand a bit tighter. As it turned out, the worry was worse than the pain. Sure, it pricked, and it stung, and it burned. But it was not too horribly bad. Edreina kept her arm in the way of her field of vision for good measure, but found herself relaxing slowly which eased the pain even more. After a few moments - or perhaps an hour - Pingere decided to speak. "In all my years on the Anchorage..." He wiped her stomach with a towel before continuing. "I've seen all manner of man and beast. But, I've never seen a woman who kept company with both a Myrian and an Otani. Well." Edreina could almost hear the smile in his voice. "There was one lass who ended up having a Myrian's baby. Poor little thing was not blessed, but the father stole away with it before the mother could cast it away. Caused a wee bit of an uproar." Edreina rolled her eyes. Svefra children without blue eyes were often tossed overboard moments after birth. Why would the father spend so much energy saving the child? Then again. Edreina could not even begin to imagine or fathom the bond that exists between parent and child. After a moment of lapsing silence, Pingere addressed Razkar. "So, Myrian, what be your business aboard our Anchorage? Are you planning on staying long?" Edreina nearly gaped. Despite their friendship, even she had not asked that question, despite how it tugged at her own thoughts. Would Razkar take offence? After Razkar's response, Pingere included Uleru in the conversation. "You like my work..." This time there was no doubt that he was smiling. "If you would like, you can take a small one before you leave. I haven't paid my tribute in awhile..." He seemed intent upon keeping everyone involved for after a moment, Edreina found herself being tugged back into conversation - she had nearly began to doze as the pricks maintained a hypnotizing pattern and the sun continued to warm her skin. "What's the story behind this ink, girl?" "Oh! Well..." Edreina blushed brightly, glad that her arm covered her nose and cheeks. "It's not that interesting of a story, really. My siblings and I just promised that no matter how many waves lie between us, we will always be family." Pingere paused for an instant, waiting a moment even to wipe her abdomen as he thought. "Tis not a bad reason. You'll have a better one next time you come to visit me. Myrian, are you planning on getting ink today? Your canvas still has space..."

[Razkar]

Razkar was, to use a lurid metaphor, something of a connoisseur of pain. He had seen it on many species and faces and races throughout his comparatively short life. The deep and abiding agony of internal injuries. The flushed annoyance of trivial cuts and bruises. The stunned and trembling shock from the loss of a limb...

He recognized one in Edreina's eyes as her hand squeezed his and her nails bit into his dark skin. He saw it... and smiled at her realization.

"There is the real, and there is the fear." He said as her face began to relaxed into something like a subdued pain, her mind creating an equilibrium with her body to handle the needlework. "Most times? Fear is much more bad than real. See? You are already use..."

The Myrian did not keep time, but by the change of the sun, he would guess that it was no short elapse by the time Pingere finally straightened up, squared his shoulders and nodded in satisfaction at his work. There was no big, broad smile, no smug looking around for platitudes; just the solid, satisfied look of an craftsman who knows he had done a good job.

"In all my years on the Anchorage, I've seen all manner of man and beast. But, I've never seen a woman who kept company with both a Myrian and an Otani."

Razkar chuckled at that, shaking his head and marveling at how the gods threw such disparate people together in such improbably ways. How would his own people regard him if he tramped from the jungle with some of the others he had met? The proud and hulking Riaris, perhaps, or the glowering, golden-skinned Drykas Vanator?

Then his expression hardened as a child was mentioned, half-Myrian, and he was about to question the tale when further words were spoken. At him.

"So, Myrian, what be your business aboard our Anchorage? Are you planning on staying long?"

Razkar had no problem answering that one, and shrugged his shoulders with the air of one used to wandering.

"I am passing through. Sailing to Syliras."

Pingere's bushy brows lowered quickly and he shook his head. "They won't like your kind there, Myrian. Not partial to the unwashed and inked-up types in Syliras, especially when they're carrying half an armory."

Another insouciant shrug. "Just passing through there, too. Not be long."

The old Svefra grunted but it seemed to satisfy him, though Razkar sensed no relief that the savage would be crowding them on their Anchorage for too long. He decided that he liked the old ink- and needle-worker.

His eyes passed to Edreina when she told the tale of her ink and the Myrian nodded slowly and smiled. The future and ones own adventures were a fine subject for the canvas, but family... family was what you were before you even knew it. Unconsciously he brushed the tattoo over his heart, stroking his mother's mane of dark hair.

"Good reason."

"Tis not a bad reason. You'll have a better one next time you come to visit me. Myrian, are you planning on getting ink today? Your canvas still has space..."

Razkar was snapped out of his reverie by the artist's words and opened his mouth to deny him, but... no... he actually did have some business left with him today. The Myrian turned and reached round to his back, tapping the spiral of skulls that snaked and wound its way from the middle of his spine. Dozens of them. His finger tapped the end of it. He would knew where it was by feel alone.

"You see skulls? I need eight more."

The mood changed almost imperceptibly, and Razkar was fascinated to see how it affected each one of them. Pingere just nodded shortly like he would a request from any customer, though Razkar noticed he hid his eyes with a flex of his eyebrows. Did he disapprove? Not care? He did not know.

The Otani, typically, just looked somewhere between curious and aroused, which seemed to be her default expression, though Razkar thought that probably had more to do with her insatiable hunger for gossip and, naturally, more ammunition to torment him with.

Edri... Edri was just shocked. He expected that, but returned he wide-eyed stare with one calm and neutral, black eyes as level and open as before. He laid on his chest and looked at her as Pingere began to work, skin by now numbed and used to the constant burning sting of the needle as two tiny skulls were added to the spiral.

Eight skulls. Tiny but still meaningful. Eight lives taken by his hands, and he remembered every one. Human. Akalak. Zith. Eight sacrifices to his terrible and beautiful Goddess-Queen, a whole season's worth, and he had been negligent in adding them to his canvas for long enough.

And if she is to ask, he mused as the needle did its bloody work, you will answer honestly. Because it is what you do, and what you are. Where is the dishonor in that?

[Uleru]

"You like my work... If you would like, you can take a small one before you leave. I haven't paid my tribute in a while..." Uleru laughs lightly with pleasure at the offer. He noticed she appreciates his work, and offered her a piece to choose for herself. This in itself is very rare, for even Sevfra must be reminded to give thanks to their god occasionally. And Uleru gets a strange sense of pleasure to have been given an opportunity to choose what he will give to the sea. "Thank you, that is very kind" she nods respectfully, eyes alight as she is already looking over his work. Reaching forward she pulls a simple scarf from the railing, one that caught her eye earlier. Its a typical Sevfra garment made of light cotton thats worn around the head or waist of men and woman, dyed expertly to a dark purple. "This is perfect", she murmurs with a sound like a brook over smooth stones, running her hand under the scarf and watching the colour change with the moisture off her hand. After Edreina's ink is completed, Razkar steps up and asks for two more skulls to add to the spiralling pattern on his back. Uleru looks up in interest, only to hunch her shoulders in a show of distaste once she realizes that this tattoo is not for any show of vanity. She is almost three hundred years old, and many generations the Myrian's senior, but never has she come close to matching the savage's body count. Everyone she's killed was offered to Laviku and she promptly forgot whatever blasphemer or cursed she was compelled to sacrifice for him. What the Myrian wears cant all possibly be for his goddess, though she admits she knows very little about his goddess. What could he have possibly done to anger so many people? Or what did they do to anger him? She finds herself hoping that the last two skulls don't belong to her fathers people. If Laviku drives her to avenge them she doubts she would be strong enough to pull him under. Her tongue clicks with a sound like two rocks banging together, but doesn't speak. The term she used before, the 'parade of ghosts', flits through her mind. She imagines a spiralling line of dead following the Myrian throughout his trek, cursing him as they go. Her dead don't deserve a spot of remembrance on her body, or even a grave. They don't follow her, and she cant imagine why Razkar would let them follow him.

[Edreina]

When all was said and done, Edreina felt incredibly sore, as if her skin had been slowly peeled away, but satisfied. She had finally faced one of her greatest fears, and come out no worse for wear. Standing and stretching, she had a small smile that spoke of great pride held within. Lifting her breast, Edreina saw an inverted version of her new tattoo but it was beautiful, nonetheless. Looking upon it, she saw the bond that she and her siblings shared, immortalized upon her honeyed skin. Sure, it was puffy and inflamed at this moment, but Edreina could see the design that sung from beneath. ”You see skulls? I need eight more.” Edreina was so caught up in her musings that she nearly missed Razkar's statement. But, when it hit her, it had the physical effect of a great wave of sea-water washing up and over the deck. She stumbled slightly before whirling in order to affix the dark-skinned Myrian in her curious blue gaze. Shocked, but morbidly curious. He mentioned taking eight lives as easily as Edreina would mention seeing eight gulls or a pod of dolphins. It was unsettling. But, at the same time, it nudged Edreina's drowsy curiosity to full attention. Narrowing her previously wide eyes, she looked at him as if studying a fine detail in a great shell, noting how this little tidbit contributed to her perception of Razkar as a whole. She had known that he was a killer, simple and efficient. But did he take pleasure in killing off of the battle-field? What were his motives behind killing? Simply pleasing his goddess Myri or was there more to it? As he lay where she previously had, Edreina noticed for the first time just how many small skulls there were. Why did he feel the need to display each kill? Pride, or responsibility to some code she knew not. The thought of making a mark on her skin for every life she took seemed oddly morbid to Edreina, as if she were making the point that their life had enough value to be remembered. If that was true, why did he not spare them? If none of them had value in his mind, why would he want to mark down the innumerable empty lives he had claimed? Was there a sense of guilt in his remembering each kill? Or did the fact that he put each tattoo on his back symbolize that they were behind him? In the past. Edreina realized that she was being far too philosophical, thinking too deeply into something she knew nothing of. Shaking her fiery mane into a flurry, she sank to her knees beside Uleru, smiling a small smile that did not touch her eyes. Her mind was yet elsewhere. Well, it was until Pingere set his equipment aside and muttered a curse under his breath, standing with a few creaks and pops. “Nearly forgot,” he explained, walking stiffly back to his cabin. He came back a long instant later with a jar of odd, green jelly-looking goo and a roll of fresh linen. He walked over and handed them to a bewildered Edreina. “Your skin is very fair. I don't want the sun to ruin my work. That gel there comes from a mainland plant called Aloe Vera. I want you to smear that over your tattoo every time you think about it and then cover it with the linen. Do this for a week and your tattoo will stay darker longer. It will also help with the swelling and the soreness.” Edreina nodded to herself as Pingere walked off, not even bothering to wait for a reaction. He sat on the pad beside Razkar once more and paused, needle once more in hand . “Just a warning, my style is a bit different than that of whoever you've had do these others. I will try to match them as much as I can but they will be different, nonetheless.” With that, the master tattooist went back to work, leaning in close as he attempted to mimic the other skulls. After a chime of silence, Edreina's curiosity reached high tide and she had to release some of the building pressure in the form of asking Razkar the foremost question on her mind, seeking some satisfaction. “Why do you get a skull for each kill? Why mark yourself with death that is, apparently, so meaningless to you?”