Closed Wind and Hats (Harkon)

[Scaea Paille]

The note about having been to Endrykas and still not meeting a tattoo artist was the most surprising of all. From what she knew of the Drykas, they loved tattooing - while she was a Drykas by blood herself, she had yet to experience the actual Drykas culture firsthand. She, however, didn't remark on the subject, hoping to move on in the conversation rather than stall on the same topic. Harkon seemed to have different ideas, though - not that Scaea didn't enjoy describing her art.

"Very well. Let me change into my normal clothing, first." She looked down at her black and silver bathing suit, and then looked over to the slaves who were letting people borrow them to enjoy the beach without ruining their normal clothing. She made a hand gesture for him to wait and ran off, one hand on her hat. Retrieving her clothing, she changed back into the black, satin skirt and blouse that she had worn to Kenash and walked back to the Benshira.

"Now, about tattooing. Do you want to know the process, or about the design?" If Scaea loved anything, it was tattooing.

[Harkon]

Harkon smiled as she excused herself to change into more city appropriate clothing. "Of course." He stood by waiting, watching her walk away, letting his eyes gaze up and down her womanly form from behind, taking the opportunity when her own wouldn't be watching him. She was quite appealing, especially the round, firm rump that was at the crest of her strong legs. Pailles, after all, were Drykas, and being such, he had no doubt that she had some experience in horseback riding. As she collected her clothing from the slave, he turned his gaze away slightly, so as to appear to not be staring. He was looking further down the beach, seeing the many people in the seasonably fashionable beach attire. He had but one outfit, perhaps he could afford more next season. Upon her return, she asked what he wished to know. Before replying, he gestured toward the bridge turning his body, so they could begin their pleasant journey. He thought about it for a moment. He was no artist, and didn't really understand a lot of it, so he immediately nixed the idea of asking about the design. "I would love to hear about the process of tattooing. What materials do you use? How do you apply it to the skin? I know nothing, so I am, for the moment, your naive student in your craft." Even in her change of clothing, he still found Scaea quite stylish and attractive. He always kept his eyes forward, but he could still see some of her form in his peripheral vision. He had no assumptions as to where he hoped this conversation might lead, but he certainly had his hopes, even if it were a long shot. She was, after all, a proper Dynast woman, and he a simple Freeborn man. He crossed his hands behind his back, walking forward, slowing the pace some for her shorter strides to keep up, as well as giving him more time in her presence.

[Scaea Paille]

Scaea walked with him, not really paying attention to her own pace or where she was going - she was just following him, and would probably end up walking into something if she wasn't careful. But her eyes glittered with his questions, and she cracked her knuckles as she began speaking. Gods, if she loved anything, it was her work.

"Well, you start with pots of ink - many different colors. Black, blue, green, pink, orange, red, everything you could think of. Think of something not there? You just mix it." She said, looking at Harkon and nodding to herself. Her voice was a bit louder than usual, as it happened to get when she got excited, but she didn't really care. "I also have needles. They're pretty much...um...sticks, made of whatever, with small metal pins sort of curved at the end and bunched up in different amounts. I have tiny needles for outline work, made of only, like, 4 pins, up to large ones for filling in tattoos. The process itself is painful, even moreso for the outlining work just because when the needles are smaller the pain is more concentrated." She noticed that she had been speaking without breathing and stopped walking, brushing hair out of her face as she caught breath. She continued walking a second later, her hands splayed and moving around to emphasize her words the entire time.

"What you do is you first clean the area that's going to be tattooed - I'm not really sure why, but I guess I wouldn't want to tattoo dirty skin. It's just something my father's always had me do. Then you have someone, an assistant maybe, hold the skin taught. No loose skin, or else the tattoo'd get ruined. I take one of the small needles and hold it at a really low...angle, is the word I believe I'm looking for, and barely puncture the skin with it. Once I get into it, I can do it pretty quickly, but I have to keep dipping the needles in the ink." She paused, turning to Harkon again, quickly remembering that she was supposed to be having a conversation with someone. "Any questions so far?"

[Harkon]

His beautifully freckled companion rattled on for so long, he thought she was going to pass out for lack of breathing. She'd spawned so many questions in his mind, but never gave him a chance to ask them. Her excitement was evident in her tone of voice and rapid pace of words. It was endearing to Harkon to see her like this, he respected her passion. He couldn't fully understand it, for he wasn't really passionate about anything like that. Yes, he took his job seriously, but he wouldn't say he had was passionate about it. Maybe he was becoming a true Kenashian, a creature of comfort. He made sure to take the lead on steering them to their destination, for he wasn't so sure that she was paying it any mind. So, he kept listening as the bridge came ever closer. He wondered if she really, really loved to talk this much, or just if tattooing was involved. He decided that if there was any future meetings with this woman, to not mention her craft unless he had a proper, strong drink in hand. She asked him if he had any questions as they arrived at the base of the bridge. There was a delightful path up the hill to get to the bridge proper, small but a bit steeper than one might expect. He stepped up, and offered a helping hand to her, "What tattoos do you have?" This was most certainly an attempt to steer her conversation to a less... specialized topic. He was really looking forward to that chilled wine soon. "I figured an artist such as yourself, would have many. And yet, your perfect skin appears to be a blank canvas. Unless of course, your tattoos are out of sight to the casual appreciation."

[Scaea Paille]

Scaea finally took a glance around her surroundings. She was at the base of a bridge, almost on a path, and had walked an oddly far distance from when she had last actually looked. She mentally shrugged, taking his hand. The wind blew her hair and hat slightly, and she instinctively reacher her other hand to her head, keeping the hat on from flying away again.

"I do have one tattoo, but I haven't been able to get any others recently. You can't see it, it's on my upper back, but it's a lotus. I got it to commemorate the Ahnatep trip." Her eyes flashed sadness for only a second, and it wasn't noticeable unless one was staring at her face. She was kind of disappointed he had no questions about her actual process, but she didn't take it to heart - not many people were interested in the process, only the actual finished product. She followed him up the steep path, stumbling a bit, but moving nonetheless.

"What do you do on a daily basis, Harkon?" Her question was genuine, and she showed real interest in what he did. She could only hope that he had felt the same way about her description of her job.

[Harkon]

Harkon made no attempt to see her tattoo, nor to ask her to show it. He knew some found their tattoos to be more private matters, but perhaps she just didn't feel like removing clothing in public. And it seemed it was finally his turn to talk, rather than just listen. He could find interest in her craft, if she were explaining it while performing the tattoo. He learned better by seeing and hands on training. He was not the best of listeners, as his mother used to remind him often as a child. Scaea had stumbled for a moment, and Harkon found his hand catching her by the small of her back, as a precaution. It was clear she didn't need the additional support, but it was second nature for him. Protect the Dynasts. His hand lingered perhaps a moment too long, but when he was confident that she had her footing under control, he withdrew it. "Well, as a private mercenary, I find that I have a wide variety of assignments. The most common is escorting and protecting the younger Morealis members on trips into the city. Their parents say that I'm protecting them from the dangers of the trips, but in all honesty, it is simply to keep an eye on them. I also protect the plantation and property from outside dangers. At the beginning of the season, several Zith attempted to kidnap some of our slaves at sunset. Lost a few good men, and even left me a memory of them after I cut them down." He grabbed the neck of his shirt, and pulled it down, revealing a bright pink, clearly recently healed scar running from shoulder to just below his pectoral. He revealed it long enough for her to get a decent look, before covering up. "I love my job though, it never gets dull. Always something exciting to do, and I get to work out in the sunshine much more often than not. I get to strengthen my body, travel all over our fair city, and the pay is quite nice. Besides, there is some great satisfaction in protecting people who aren't able to do so themselves." He led her from the path up onto the bridge proper now, passing over one of the many branches of the Kenash River toward Blade Island. Looking to the northwest over the sea, he saw dark grey clouds. He couldn't tell if they were heading inland or not, but they would certainly bring a downpour if they arrived. "Besides, there are other perks. I am not needed quite often, and can spend days like this meeting interesting and wonderful people like yourself. You'll have to show me sometime how you give a tattoo, perhaps on my own skin eh? Surely it is more complex than constantly stabbing with an inked needle?" They still had a fair bit of bridge to cross before they reached their destination, so he threw her a bone. It was only polite after all, and besides, the more interested he seemed, the more interesting he would appear to her. Or at least that was the idea.

[Scaea Paille]

She barely noticed the hand that graced the small of her back in precaution. The Paille listened to his words, though she now found herself paying more attention to her footing in an attempt to avoid anything precarious. Her head turned, tilting at the sight of the scar. Scaea had avoided receiving a scar for as long as she could remember, but the shiny, pink scar was intriguing. And fighting off Zith was a feat in itself, let alone surviving an encounter with the terrifying creatures - even if the Benshira had been in the company of others when it happened.

"Zith are horrible, disgusting creatures. I'd never survive an encounter with one - though I suppose you're right, that's why we hire the mercenaries." Her reply was short, compared to his description, while she carefully stepped onto the bridge proper. From what she could recall, they were heading towards Blade Island. The dark clouds were far off in the distance, though she strained to remember if that was typical for the season. It had been long before she put her prior knowledge of the typical weather to use. The Paille's eyes scanned sea, but found nothing entirely out of the ordinary. It was, for all intents and purposes, a normal storm front. Perhaps it would just blow right by them, sparing them the winds and rains that flooded the swamps.

"I think we can both agree that we love our jobs, yes." She glanced down at the compliment, playing coy, and looked back after a few ticks. "I'd love to give you a tattoo."

[Harkon]

Harkon smiled silently to himself, having seen her reaction to the compliment. He was able to assume several things from that, the most important being that she probably didn't receive compliments that often. That in and of itself was a shame for he was genuine and honest in that regard. But because of that, he assumed that she probably wasn't in the company of men very often, outside of relatives that is, and when she was, they were probably too bothered to be interested in her. These were all good things for the mercenary, for he felt it improved his odds at whatever it was this could end up being. So long as he kept playing the part of the gentleman, kept her talking, for she truly seemed to enjoy this, then he felt this would end quite well for him. He continued along in casual, friendly silence, deciding to not comment on the weather like a man who didn't have anything interesting to speak of in her presence. Finally reaching Lantern Square, and found them a set of seats away from the rest of the socialites, gesturing for Scaea to sit with one hand, the other outstretched to receive her own should she need it. He had commonly seen this done by the Dynast men, and assumed it to be a courtesy. After, he turned to a slave and retrieved two goblets of chilled wine, offering one to her before sitting casually next to her, ensuring they were touching at the hip. He figured the occasional casual touch would make her more comfortable with him, and it had seemed to work earlier. He enjoyed the spot he'd chosen, beneath one of the shadier trees, with the added benefit of keeping those under its protection dry should that rain cloud come in to town. He found the square oddly unoccupied, with only a handful of people dotting the perimeter. After taking a decent swallow of his wine, which he found pleasantly fruity, he continued on the subject she seemed to enjoy most. "Do you do much work for the mercenaries like myself? I've never really considered as to what sort of tattoo I might get, so perhaps you could recommend what to avoid, since I imagine you see a lot of tattoos common to certain types of people."

[Scaea Paille]

Scaea followed him blindly into the square, almost like a puppy follows its master. She had forgotten they were even going to Lantern Square, having been too busy talking to remember anything as trivial as that, though she followed him over to the seats underneath the shady tree. She sat down, taking the chilled wine as he handed it to her and sipped. The drink was fruity and refreshing, especially after walking such a distance. She didn't seem to really notice how close they were sitting, and she didn't really care.

The seat was in a nice location, though the entire square seemed to be lacking its usual boisterous activity. It was a shame - she liked the ambient noise of chatter and idle conversation as a backdrop to her activities. It did, however, have the plus side of smelling much nicer than it usually did, with a lack of sweating bodies and heavy perfume to make it smell. Instead, it smelled of the flowers planted around the square, though the air felt a bit muggier now than it had earlier.

"I wouldn't really say there's anything to avoid, persay. More like, don't get anything that isn't personally meaningful. There's nothing worse than regretting a tattoo, because the only way to get it off is to literally cut off your skin. It's stuck there forever, even when it fades." She bobbed her head in a slight nod, agreeing with herself. One hand found itself holding the goblet of wine aloft, bringing it to her lips for another sip, and the other was carefully set in her lap. "As for the question about tattooing mercenaries, I do work on a lot of people - mostly slaves and Radackes." She faced him, her brown eyes peering over the edge of the goblet as she took another sip. "You're best off to think about it carefully, for a long time, before you get one."