Sharp points and other fun things

[Sorla]

26th Spring 517

Whenever anything momentous happened in Sorla's life, she had always felt the need to mark the change by altering her appearance in some way. Sometimes it was enough to just add a new feather to her hair, but for important things the mark had to be more permanent, as if imprinting her story onto the way she looked. That was how she had ended up with four piercings. The first two, simple glass rings in each ear, had been to celebrate her passage from child to young adult and her acceptance as an apprentice. The third, a glass bar that ran through the central cartilage in her left ear, was for the first time somebody bought a cloak that she had made herself, from start to finish. The fourth was a ring through her nose and had been done the day after the first night she had spent in another's bed. It was the day she felt she had at last become a real adult. She remembered how she had treasured what she believed was her new-found maturity; looking back, it was nothing more than the self-conscious pride of a child.

But she had nothing that recorded the most momentous events yet; nothing that marked her as the forever altered person she was after leaving Wind Reach. She felt strangely incomplete. Without an outward symbol of the fact that she had changed it as was if she had not caught up with her own life. And so here she was, stepping through a doorway that seemed to be made of bones and into what seemed like a tropical hothouse. She almost went back outside to make sure she had read the sign properly - 'Poisoned Arrow Piercings & Tattoos'. Before she could, a tall woman with burnished bronze skin and black hair appeared from a door at the back of the room. Her hair was braided to her scalp over her head and then flowed loose down her back. Aside from her height, her defined muscles and her almost menacingly beautiful face, what made her especially striking was her skin: almost every visible inch of it was tattooed with intricate swirling patterns, whorling helices and what looked like carved slashes. 'What do you want?' the woman asked. Sorla swallowed nervously, doubting again that this was even a shop. Had she just walked straight into a stranger's house, and a clearly dangerous one at that?

'I'm very sorry, I must have come to the wrong place,' she said, backing away. She was no coward but she couldn't see any sense in tangling with this aggressive woman. 'I was looking for the piercing shop, it must be next door.'
'You've come to the right place,' the woman said. 'Sit down.' She gestured to a leather stool nestled in a corner between several spiky plants. The proliferation of toxic-looking foliage in the room made it feel like a surreal jungle. Sorla did as she was told, noting the tray of needles and forceps glinting in the greenish light like a torturer's armoury.

The woman pulled up another stool and sat down facing Sorla, her legs half straddling the stool and her feet planted far apart as she pulled the stool closer and leant in so close Sorla could feel her breath. She seemed to be examining her for a while, and then without a word picked up a pair of forceps and one of the thicker needles, rubbed them both with a foul-smelling cloth and said, 'Open your mouth.' The red-haired Inarta tried to inch backwards, but her stool was against the wall. 'Aren't you going to ask me what I want pierced?' The woman gestured impatiently. 'I'm going to pierce your lip. Open up.' Sorla still wasn't convinced and, at the risk of angering this madwoman even more, she nodded to the cloth she woman had used. 'What was on that cloth?' she said, her voice trembling more than she would have liked. A strange smile curved itself round the dark woman's teeth and then she winked, the effect so unexpectedly friendly and conspiratorial that Sorla was taken aback. 'What, do you think I'm going to poison you, sweet one? You can trust me, you know.' She laughed seeing Sorla's discomfort. 'It's just a poultice made with herbs from the Taloban jungle. It smells like a tiger's arse but trust me, it'll stop the fresh wound getting infected. Now open up, I haven't got all day.' Sorla was tempted to counter that as there were no other customers it seemed like the woman did in fact have plenty of time, but she decided against it and opened her mouth.

She felt the forceps clamping tightly round her lower lip and pulling it taut, and then a few seconds of blinding pain later the needle was through and the woman was threading a black stud into the hole. Her hands moved quickly and skillfully, and the work was soon complete, at which point the woman used one hand to keep Sorla's jaw open while with the other reaching for the putrid cloth and wiping the inside of her mouth with it. Sorla gagged, and the woman passed her a glass of a clear fluid. It had a fresh, acid taste she wasn't familiar with, but once she had drunk it the nausea subsided. 'See, that wasn't so bad, was it?' The woman was flashing her another of those strangely animalistic smiles, but there didn't seem to be anything sinister in it. Sorla smiled back, feeling the new metal in her lip as she did so. 'It was quicker than I was expecting, I'll give you that,' she said. Despite the woman's savage appearance her touch had been gentle and deft, clearly trying to avoid causing any more pain than necessary.

[Sorla]

As they walked across to the desk at the back of the room to settle up the bill, and as the dark-haired Myrian rummaged through the piles of paper on the desk looking for her small change coin purse, Sorla could not take her eyes from the swirls and spirals that danced across her skin. Before, it had just looked like a mass of tangled lines, but now as she looked closer she could see individual pictures emerging from the chaos. There was a delicate flower on her left shoulder blade, its petals seeming to quiver when the muscle shifted, and the tip of a barbed vine snaking up above her neckline, hinting at the rest of the plant coiling around her torso. Sorla was captivated, and then embarrassed when she realised she’d been staring so hard she’d completely forgotten to listen to the price.

‘Sorry, I’ve never seen skin drawings before,’ she muttered as she handed over the money once the woman had repeated the price. ‘Where do you get them from?’
‘They are common among my people,’ the woman said, a sudden faraway look in her eyes. Sorla felt a pang of recognition for her expression. ‘We use them to tell stories. Stories about ourselves.’
‘Like these,’ Sorla said, pointing at her piercings. ‘They tell stories too, to me at least.’
‘And what stories are they telling, pretty one?’ the Myrian asked, teasing again.
Sorla hesitated. ‘Perhaps stories for another time. I’m interested in the skin drawings. How do they get into your skin?’
‘With a knife,’ the woman said with a grin that flashed her teeth, her hand playing with the carved bone handle of a knife on the desk. ‘Do you want one?’

Sorla swallowed. She didn’t feel entirely comfortable around this woman, but the tattoos were calling her like a moth to a flame. She was entranced by the subtle play of savagery and delicacy in the idea of carving art into your skin. ‘I want to learn how it is done,’ she said.

The Myrian’s expression instantly changed. ‘It is not for you to learn. You are not of my people. I can draw you a pretty picture on your skin, but I cannot show you the ways to tell the stories.’

Sorla was surprised the coldness in the woman’s voice, but she was determined to know more about this mysterious art. She thought for a moment. ‘You say only your people can draw stories on your skin. But your people are far away, no? Who will draw your stories?’

The bronze-skinned woman was angry now. ‘Don’t you dare talk about my people,’ she hissed. ‘You know nothing about them, or me. You’re just a silly little girl.’ She towered over Sorla, daring her to respond. Sorla wanted to flinch, but forced herself to return the woman’s gaze. ‘You also know nothing about me,’ she flared up, but then softened her voice. ‘My people are far away too. Teach me and I will draw your stories for you.’

The woman seemed surprised that Sorla had dared to answer at all, because for a moment her face relaxed, another sudden look of distant sadness sweeping briefly across her features, but then her eyes became steely again. ‘I cannot tell you our stories, and anyway you would not understand.’ She turned her back, as if to signal that the conversation was over, but Sorla waited for a moment and then said firmly, ‘Then let me tell you my stories. I do not ask you to tell me your secrets. All I ask is for you to show me how it is done. Please.’

Something in her voice must have convinced the Myrian, because she turned around slowly and stared hard at the red-haired young woman.
‘You’ve got some courage, I’ll admit that,’ she said. ‘But I warn you, it won’t be easy. It will hurt.’ She scanned Sorla’s face, looking for signs of fear, but Sorla refused to let any through. Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, the Myrian nodded, and then that strange, quick smile flashed over her teeth again. ‘Many people like to have a drink before to steady the nerves. Not much, just enough to smooth things over. I’m Yara, by the way,’ she said with a wink. Sorla couldn’t get her head around this woman’s ability to switch from fierce to light-hearted in just the blink of an eye. Her own temper took longer to boil over, but when it did it rarely subsided until it had run its course. That was how you ended up in this crazy city, she thought bitterly to herself. To the woman she simply nodded and smiled as she was handed a cup filled with a frothy, pale liquid.

[Sorla]

'Before you can learn how to make tattoos, you have to experience what's it like to get one,' Yara had said, pre-empting Sorla's question of why she needed to settle her nerves in the first place if she was just supposed to be learning the technique. 'You need to understand the pain before you can start trying to reduce it. And anyone who's not willing to ink their own skin has no right to mark anyone else's.'

Sorla could see the logic behind what she said. She had once asked her father why he bothered to cut and polish his own buttons when he could just buy them from the market, and he had replied that a good craftsman must always be familiar with every aspect of his skill. The same was true here, she supposed. Jumping straight in without knowing what it felt like on the receiving end would be like trying to cook something you had never tasted. And so she drank her ale and watched the Myrian's preparations carefully, trying to focus on every step so she would be able to remember it later. The ale slipped down her throat easily, and after a few gulps she could feel belly starting to get warm. She hadn't drunk anything except water and occasionally milk for... seven months? Eight? And with her small Inarta frame, alcohol had always gone to her head anyway.

Yara picked up a box that was inlaid with mahogany in a spiral pattern, caressing the grain of the wood as she eased open the lid. From inside she took a long, thin, curved piece of metal and wiped it with a cloth drenched in the same foul-smelling liquid as before. Then she placed it on an ornate tray. Sorla could see the point tapering to a brutally sharp blade. The dark-haired Myrian next took down a selection of vials from a shelf at the side of the room. Each contained powder in various shades of grey and black. 'Ash,' she said, gesturing to a charcoal-coloured one, and then lifting up a dark black one: 'Charred Taloban candlenut.' She considered Sorla for a while and then shook her head, replacing both vials. 'For you, I think this one,' she said taking down a vial of a rich blue powder. 'Cloud Forest bluestone, from the mountains north of Taloba.' She then took a large glass jar of a whitish, creamy goo and deposited it next to the vial of powder and the reeking blade. By this time Sorla had finished her ale and was feeling slightly light-headed. She regretted not having eaten that morning, and suppressed a small burp. Yara looked up and laughed. 'Should have known you wouldn't be able to handle your ale. Here,' and she chucked her a bag of dried berries and nuts. Sorla gratefully took a handful and chewed them slowly, savouring the unfamiliar sourness of the berries and the crunchy, woody nuts.

Yara now took a wooden bowl that was covered with a blue and green cloth and placed it in front of her on the table. She sat down on a stool and took the cloth off the bowl to reveal a wooden spatula inside. She draped the cloth over her legs. Taking the spatula, she scooped out some of the white substance from the jar, and smeared it into the bottom of the bowl. Next she scattered some of the bluestone powder into the bowl, and started rhythmically mixing the powder and the goo together while muttering something under her breath that Sorla couldn't catch, or understand. She gradually poured more powder, mixing as she went, until she had created a thick, bluish-green substance in the bottom of the bowl. It smelled fruity - 'coconut oil,' she explained when Sorla leaned over to get a closer look at the jar - and mineral at the same time. Sorla was so intrigued by the process that she had almost forgotten what was about to happen to her until Yara, apparently satisfied with her work, placed the bowl back on the table, picked up the long curved blade, and gestured to the red-headed Inarta to sit down on the stool opposite her and hold out her arm.

[Sorla]

Sorla obeyed, slightly dizzy from the ale and adrenaline. 'What would you like me to draw?' Yara asked. 'It should be something simple for your first one, but it needs to tell your story too.' Sorla thought for a while. What was her story? It seemed to have two halves: before and after she had left Wind Reach. Before, it had been an uncomplicated tale of family, hard work and a simple ambition to master her craft. Now... she thought back to the decisions she had made the night before, that she would redeem herself somehow for what she had done to her sister, that she would not let herself rest until she had found a way to heal her conscience. She remembered how she had felt seeing the puppet show: like an arrow loosed from a bow, tumbling through the wind, lost and directionless. And how once she had come to her decision, it had felt like she had a direction again, even if that direction was no more than a simple 'onwards'. She thought of the smooth wood of her bow at home, remembered the sensation of the slight jerk as she notched an arrow, the tautness just before she released the string, the satisfying 'thunk' as the arrow flew straight and true and pierced the target. She thought of how an arrow has to be pulled backwards before it can fly forwards; of how even a broken arrow can be fired with the right bow. It felt right, it was part of her story.

'I would like an arrow,' she said simply. 'Here,' pointing to the crook of her left elbow, and tracing her finger downwards to show that the arrow should be facing away from her body. Yara nodded, picked up the blade, and grasped Sorla's arm tightly in her other hand. 'Don't look away,' the Myrian said, right before she plunged the tip into the delicate skin inside Sorla's elbow and then repeated the motion over and over again, each time slightly lower than before, to create a long line of tiny dots along her forearm and then another parallel to it. Sorla's instinct was to snatch her arm away as the sharp pain shot through her, but she only jerked once before forcing herself to sit still, biting her lip as the woman continued to carve dots at the ends of the line, the blade darting back and forth. Sorla tried to work out the pattern by following the course of the sharp pains, but it was impossible.

After every few strokes Yara would stop to wipe the blood away with the stinking cloth. In just a few minutes, Sorla's forearm looked like it had been mauled by an eagle. There was blood beading from numerous pinpricks, and the whole area was inflamed and red. But Yara wasn't finished. She took the wooden spatula, scooped up some of the bluish-green substance, and smeared it onto the cuts, using the flat edge of the implement to grind it into the wound so that Sorla had to clench her teeth and hold her breath to stop herself crying out in pain. The pressure on the raw wound was bad enough, but once the blue goo worked its way in it started stinging as well. She could feel hot tears prickling behind her eyes but blinked them back, never taking her eyes off the woman's motions. Once she had wiped away the blood and excess blue, she inspected the drawing, head on one side, before picking up the blade again and carving yet more points.

After a few more rounds of carving, wiping, smearing, wiping and carving again, she finally seemed satisfied with her work. To Sorla's eye it just looked like a mess of raw, red and blue lines, the edges starting to swell and the skin angry and bruised. But she wasn't going to complain that it was over. With one more thorough wipe with the reeking cloth, Yara then wrapped Sorla's arm in a long white bandage and tied it off tight. 'No looking until tomorrow,' she said. 'Come back then and I'll make sure it's not infected.' 'What would happen if it was infected?' asked Sorla. 'Your arm would fall off,' Yara replied with a cackle, as she carried the bowl to the back of the room and started cleaning out the bluish residue in the bottom. 'And tomorrow it'll be your turn to use the knife. I hope you were watching carefully.'

[Sorla]

27th Spring 517

All night her arm had throbbed, keeping her awake through most of the small hours. A slight hangover that materialised around the same time as the sun didn't help matters either. The little Inarta was still not a hundred percent sure the Myrian woman hadn't poisoned her, although there was no possible reason other than for the thrill of it. But she would have felt the effects by now anyway, and the combination of a newly incised arm and a rare mug of ale were perfectly enough on their own to explain her aching head and nausea.

She left the inn early, unable to get back to sleep and anyway wanting to make sure she found the Myrian's shop before the whole day had gone by. In Alvadas it wasn't even a matter of leaving more time than you expected - it was impossible even to know how much time to expect in the first place. A journey that took five bells yesterday might take five chimes today. Today she was relatively lucky, and it was still morning by the time she spied the bone arch around the door of Yara's shop (were they real bones or carved decorations? She had no way of knowing).

Stepping inside, she was hit again by the scent of over-ripe foliage. Yara wasn't in the shop, so Sorla called out a couple of times, and then wandered around having a look at the plants. How had Yara managed to make it so hot in here? The plants she had growing wouldn't have survived a week outside in Alvadas's mild climate. Sorla noticed several shelves full of vials, jars, flasks and boxes that she had not bothered to look at last time she was here. Some were obviously for use in tattooing, but others probably had special fertilizers that helped the Myrian recreate her jungle homeland up here in Kalea. Most of them were unlabelled, and she didn't want to risk taking a closer look in case Yara walked in and thought she was stealing. She called out again, and this time was answered by a shout from the back, followed by a noise of bustling and then the appearance of the dishevelled looking Myrian, who had clearly just woken up. She looked a lot worse than Sorla felt, her dark hair in a tangled heap and crease marks on her cheek around a slightly bloodshot eye.

'Sorry,' Sorla ventured. 'I didn't mean to disturb you...'
'Well you shouldn't have shouted then, should you?' retorted Yara. 'What do you want this time?'
'Uh... you told me to come back today so you could check my arm, and for my first lesson. It's OK, I can come back later if you'd prefer,' Sorla said, edging away. She had no desire to be in the firing line if the Myrian was in a bad mood.
'Why would I prefer that,' Yara snapped. 'Are you suggesting I'm not capable of checking a poxy little arm? Hold your arm out and take off that bandage.'

Sorla quickly started unwinding the cloth, revealing a greenish stain dotted with specks of brown blood on the inner wrapping. She winced as a bit of cloth pulled away from the tattoo, catching on one of the newly formed scabs. 'Hurry up!' Yara barked from the back of the room where she was mixing a selection of powders into a mug of water. Sorla quickly ripped off the last of the bandage, repressing a gasp of pain. The blood was starting to seep out of the newly reopened wounds by the time the Myrian walked over, stirring her concoction with a bit of wood and then taking a long gulp. 'Looks fine,' she said quickly. 'Not infected.'

She turned away and took another draught of her drink, leaving Sorla bewildered. Yara had hardly even looked at the tattoo; how could she be so sure it wasn't infected. She waited until the dark woman had drained her mug before asking, 'How long until it's healed, do you think? It really throbs...' she trailed off, not wanting to sound pathetic but also wanting to make sure it really wasn't infected. Yara glanced at her face and motioned to a stool. 'Sit down, I'll have a proper look.' Her tone was gentler now. Sorla wondered if whatever she had drunk had settled her mood, or maybe she was just a terrible morning person.

After a more thorough inspection, the Myrian looked up and nodded. 'Yes, it's healing well. It'll hurt for a few more days though. Not much I can do about that, sorry. Anyway, what were you expecting, I petching cut your arm open!' That last was said in the same half mocking, bantering tone that had caught Sorla so off guard the day before. Gods, this woman's moods were like lightning! Yara gave Sorla's arm another wipe of the stinking liquid and wrapped it in a clean bandage. 'Ready to start?'

[Sorla]

Sorla looked around. There was nobody else in the room, but she was sure the Myrian was not about to let her loose on her own skin. So who was she going to learn on? As if guessing her unspoken question, Yara, stood up and went into a back room, returning with a piece of what looked horribly like detached skin, about the size of a person's face. 'Got it fresh yesterday evening after you left,' she said. 'For beginners it's best to let some of the blood drain out first.' Sorla couldn't suppress the look of horror that spread across her face. Yara laughed aloud on seeing her. 'It's not human, you idiot! Ha, your face was priceless! What do you think I am, a maniac?' She flashed Sorla an animalistic grin and plumped the skin down on the table. 'It's pig skin. Don't ask me why but pigs and humans have very similar skin. Except pig skin is a bit tougher, so bear that in mind. When we get to practising on a person you'll have to be gentler than today or you'll end up stabbing them. Come here and give it a squeeze, you need to get to know your materials.'

Following Yara's instructions, Sorla palpated the pig skin, getting a feel for its texture and thickness. It was less unpleasant than she had expected; it was dry and clean and cold. If she didn't think too much about it, it hardly felt like skin at all. Once she had felt the skin for a while, Yara handed her a pointed blade similar to the one she had used on Sorla the day before. This one was not as finely carved around the handle, but the tip was just as sharp. 'Stick it in then,' Yara ordered. Sorla tried to obey but found she had to press quite hard to pierce the skin. 'I told you pig skin is tough. Don't go doing that on a real person,' Yara reminded her. 'Now you just need to do that again, as close as possible to the first hole while still making sure the skin between them doesn't break, otherwise the ink will blur. And then keep going until you've drawn a line.' Sorla's first few attempts were either rejected for being too far away from the first hole - 'You're not making a sieve, for Myri's sake' - or for being too close to it, breaking the thin wall of skin between them. Eventually the Inarta worked out the ideal distance, although at first it took her a long time to position the blade and be sure it wouldn't be wrong. As she became more confident with the blade she was able to pierce the skin in the right location more and more quickly, until after a couple of bells she had imprinted a line of about seven or eight pinpricks into the skin. Her hand was started to cramp up from gripping the thin blade, and she shook it to loosen the muscles.

'That's enough for now,' Yara said, noticing her movement. 'There's no point keeping going if you can't grip it properly, you'll just lose accuracy. Not bad for a first try, anyway.' Sorla nodded. She could see that her dots were imprecise and uneven compared to Yara's yesterday, which had all been of the same size and in perfectly even lines. But she was pleased that she hadn't made a pig's ear of it. She giggled to herself at her own terrible pun, but then a thought struck her. She had completely forgotten to ask the Myrian how much her lessons were going to cost. Idiot! she thought to herself. She'll be able to charge whatever she wants now. Cursing herself, she asked nervously, 'What about payment?'

'Let's see,' Yara said, musing. 'I would normally ask for 50 gold mizas for a small tattoo, but as you are going to be having lessons as well it would have to be considerably more. One hundred at least.' Seeing the shocked and anxious look on Sorla's face, she added, 'That is, unless you can think of another way to pay me? What are your skills?' 'I can sew, and fire an arrow, and... that's about it, actually,' Sorla said sheepishly. She couldn't imagine the woman being interested in either. 'Well, I wouldn't mind a new silk shirt, but that won't get you very far towards the cost. I do have a small job you could do, though, if you're interested? Nothing complicated. I’m expecting a delivery down at the port and I don’t have time to go and fetch it myself. Could you collect it for me?’

Sorla couldn't believe her luck. She had been expecting something much worse, but this was almost too easy! She accepted quickly before the Myrian had a chance to change her mind. 'Brilliant,' Yara said, with another flashing smile. 'The ship'll be coming in some time in the next couple of weeks, depending on how the journey went. It'll be coming from Syka. You'll have to go down to the docks a few times to check if it's come in. When it arrives, ask one of the sailors - a Svefra woman called Phianta - if she has a delivery for me, and give her this in return. Remember, sailors won't appreciated being bothered about something they know nothing about, so make sure you only talk to Phianta.' Yara handed Sorla a small bundle of indiscriminate shape wrapped several times in bulky cloth. 'Then just bring me the package she gives you. Simple!' Something in the pit of Sorla's stomach was warning her that it couldn't possibly that simple - collecting something from the port was a job barely worth a few mizas, and Yara was no pushover, after all, so why was she letting her get away with paying what amounted to almost nothing? But she had accepted now, and anyway she couldn't possibly afford to pay the full amount right now, so she had no choice.

[Madeira Dusk]

Grades Awarded!

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request!

Sorla

Skills

• Observation: 3XP
• Socialization: 2XP
• Persuasion: 1XP
• Tattooing: 2XP
• Endurance: 1XP

Lores

• Tattooing: Withstanding Pain
• Pigment Ingredients- Basic
• Tattoos tell stories
• Tattooing: sacred Myrian practice
• Experience is a great teacher
• Pig skin is much like human skin

Awards & Retribution

• The tattoo and surrounding tissue will be red, swollen and painful to the touch, but with proper care will return to normal within 7 to 14 days.
  
• With proper care the lip piercing will take take 40 to 50 days to heal fully.

Notes
As always, great fan of your writing and Sorla's adventures. And as a tip for future solos: shorten your posts! I could have gotten you more of that sweet xp loot if you had given me more, smaller posts. As such, I tried to eek out as much as I could. Contact me if you have any questions/concerns about your grade.

PS, Perhaps you should think about developing that tattoo parlour and getting Kaleidoscope to add it to the linkmap.