Same day, Sawbones suggested getting a little quartz cluster for it. But you're right, you can't misplace a tattoo. [He glances at his own wrist.] I want to get one on my thigh but that's not something you can just look at except when...yes.
[A thought occurs to him, and he frowns slightly.]
Though having a mark that's easy to spot might be dangerous whenever I have to run from the Chantry.
[ She had thought, briefly, if a tattoo would be worse than the scar on her face as far as her bard training is concerned, but it's easier to hide things with gloves and sleeves than hide her face all the time. ]
[ She lets go of his arm before they enter, because she has to stand on her own two feet for this. The thing she is actually nervous about here isn't the pain or the possibility that she'll make a noise and prove to herself that she's not ready, but rather the idea that she should have tried harder to find a Dalish tattooist, or a Rivaini one. ]
Tom. Nice to meetcha. So were you a sailor or somethin'? How'd you get into the...tattooing. Business?
[There are, in fact, two men in the shop--a burly human carpenter working on fixing a chair, and a slim, black-haired elf sweeping the floor. The human glances up with a smile before going back to his work. The elf holds up a finger.]
Just a second, [he says.] Almost done.
[He sweeps the wood shavings into a pan and disposes of them before wiping off his hands and approaching.]
It's been passed down in my family, [he says casually in response to her questions.] Willem lets me use a room in the back so long as I keep the place clean for him. Did you have something specific in mind?
[ For a moment, Athessa is too surprised to answer, having assumed that Tom was the carpenter, not the elf. Some of that tension, the buzzing of her nerves, lessens with an exhale and she remembers herself enough to smile. ]
I do, yeah, [ The paper is handed over, and she tells him of the placement, the quick version of her reason behind it. It's a little rambling, so she shuts up and just lets Tom (what kind of an elf is called Tom) look at the design as she folds her hands behind her back. ]
[Tom motions for them to follow him to the back room, which is immaculate and well-lit. To be an elf who winds up with any human clients, even if the human is open-minded, has to be very special. He goes over some details with Athessa--specific petal shapes, for example, things that will make the work more distinct as it ages. Once that's all settled, he arranges his inks.]
Any personal details you want? Things that make it yours?
[ She's happy to defer to his expertise, ultimately. It's hard to not be directly confronted with her inexperience — and perhaps ignorance of some level — when it comes to blood-writing. Tattoos, she corrects herself mentally. ]
I don't want it to make a complete circle. 'Cos ya know...rather not be bound, right?
[ She looks at her wrist, which is mostly bone. Then she looks at Colin, a little bit like Oh, good, it'll only hurt where there's bone. Finally, she looks to Tom and gives a lopsided smile. ]
[Colin smiles and offers his hand for her to hold with the hand not getting tattooed.
Tom begins. The first few pricks are slow, so she can get used to the pain without jerking away. After that, he works very quickly with a sharp eye and practiced hands.]
[ True to her plan, Athessa is silent for the duration of the tattoo. It hurts a lot less than she expects, which is possibly because it's on her wrist and not her face, but it's still a small point of pride that she not only doesn't make a sound, but doesn't flinch, either.
At first she doesn't even take Colin's hand, instead watching with rapt attention as the tapping of the needles drives ink into her skin, and blackish blood beads up on the surface afterwards. When she does take Colin's offered hand, it's not the tight gripping sort of hand-holding most employ during a painful procedure; rather, it's light and shifting, more like the way she'd traced the lines of his palm beneath the tree in Ghislain. A gentle reminder of the company and comfort of it, rather than a lifeline to cling to.
When it's done, Athessa holds up her hand and looks at the delicate coil of petals and leaves. ]
It feels...warmer than I thought it would. [ There's heat radiating off the collection of tiny wounds, which she can feel as acutely as if the tattoo were a flame that doesn't actually burn. ]
Ma serannas, [ Distracted, still poring over Tom's work. But when he names the very reasonable price, she produces a jingly coin pouch and pays her due, plus a little extra. ]
Thank you, [ Thanking him in two languages feels right. ] Really. It means a lot.
[ Her eyes flicker to Colin, because him making this happen also means a lot. ]
[Tom's eyes widen a little at the use of elven, but it causes his smile to widen. He ducks his head a little, not knowing how to respond in that language.]
You're welcome. Come back any time and I'll take good care of you, all right?
[Colin beams, reaching out for her hand to get a good look at the finished product.]
[ She nods to Tom, a blessing in this blasted city, and lets Colin get a decent look at the tattoo before she throws her arms around his neck in a delighted, grateful hug. ]
[ A fresh, clean bandage is wrapped around the tattoo to keep it clean, and once outside, Athessa lets out a breath of relief. ]
I was so scared all of a sudden, [ she starts, taking a few steps ahead. ] That I was doing something wrong by having someone give me blood writing without them being Dalish, or Rivaini, even. Like I was spitting on tradition even though it's not a vallaslin.
You're doing this to take part in your heritage as much as you can. And even if it's not exactly as it would be with the Dalish, it's completely your own.
I think it's good enough that he's an elf, though. I mean...I've done loads of stuff that flies in the face of everything Dalish, [ like exclusively fucking non-elves, ] but this...it's more important, I think. And it felt right.
I know exactly what you mean. He cares about it as an art, and how it's going to matter to you all your life. He suggested I get little stars instead of one large one, so my family could keep growing, and it was perfect.
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Same day, Sawbones suggested getting a little quartz cluster for it. But you're right, you can't misplace a tattoo. [He glances at his own wrist.] I want to get one on my thigh but that's not something you can just look at except when...yes.
[A thought occurs to him, and he frowns slightly.]
Though having a mark that's easy to spot might be dangerous whenever I have to run from the Chantry.
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[ She had thought, briefly, if a tattoo would be worse than the scar on her face as far as her bard training is concerned, but it's easier to hide things with gloves and sleeves than hide her face all the time. ]
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Maybe I'll just make you a bracelet, too.
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Tom, Athessa. Athessa, Tom.
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Tom. Nice to meetcha. So were you a sailor or somethin'? How'd you get into the...tattooing. Business?
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Just a second, [he says.] Almost done.
[He sweeps the wood shavings into a pan and disposes of them before wiping off his hands and approaching.]
It's been passed down in my family, [he says casually in response to her questions.] Willem lets me use a room in the back so long as I keep the place clean for him. Did you have something specific in mind?
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I do, yeah, [ The paper is handed over, and she tells him of the placement, the quick version of her reason behind it. It's a little rambling, so she shuts up and just lets Tom (what kind of an elf is called Tom) look at the design as she folds her hands behind her back. ]
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Any personal details you want? Things that make it yours?
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[ She's happy to defer to his expertise, ultimately. It's hard to not be directly confronted with her inexperience — and perhaps ignorance of some level — when it comes to blood-writing. Tattoos, she corrects herself mentally. ]
I don't want it to make a complete circle. 'Cos ya know...rather not be bound, right?
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[He traces a curved line around her wrist that never closes.]
Very simple, very timeless. Unless there's something specific you have in mind to add to it, I'd leave it like that. Keep it looking very delicate.
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It'll be most painful where there's bone, [he warns her.
And when she is settled and Colin beside her, Tom asks,]
Ready?
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As I'll ever be.
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Tom begins. The first few pricks are slow, so she can get used to the pain without jerking away. After that, he works very quickly with a sharp eye and practiced hands.]
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At first she doesn't even take Colin's hand, instead watching with rapt attention as the tapping of the needles drives ink into her skin, and blackish blood beads up on the surface afterwards. When she does take Colin's offered hand, it's not the tight gripping sort of hand-holding most employ during a painful procedure; rather, it's light and shifting, more like the way she'd traced the lines of his palm beneath the tree in Ghislain. A gentle reminder of the company and comfort of it, rather than a lifeline to cling to.
When it's done, Athessa holds up her hand and looks at the delicate coil of petals and leaves. ]
It feels...warmer than I thought it would. [ There's heat radiating off the collection of tiny wounds, which she can feel as acutely as if the tattoo were a flame that doesn't actually burn. ]
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I'll make you cold compresses if you want, [Colin says.]
[Tom names the price--very reasonable, but he does expect payment right away.]
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Thank you, [ Thanking him in two languages feels right. ] Really. It means a lot.
[ Her eyes flicker to Colin, because him making this happen also means a lot. ]
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You're welcome. Come back any time and I'll take good care of you, all right?
[Colin beams, reaching out for her hand to get a good look at the finished product.]
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I did it! I mean I knew I could but aaah!
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I'm really happy for you. It looks beautiful.
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I was so scared all of a sudden, [ she starts, taking a few steps ahead. ] That I was doing something wrong by having someone give me blood writing without them being Dalish, or Rivaini, even. Like I was spitting on tradition even though it's not a vallaslin.
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