(Untitled)
Who: Darc and Soubi
When: Backdated to Thursday morning
Where: 31D
Summery: Darc needs a tattoo, Soubi is willing to attempt it.
Warnings: Hmm, nothing much...Darc’s language I expect, needles, some pain.
( Insert witty quote here )
When: Backdated to Thursday morning
Where: 31D
Summery: Darc needs a tattoo, Soubi is willing to attempt it.
Warnings: Hmm, nothing much...Darc’s language I expect, needles, some pain.
( Insert witty quote here )
"Yeah...so are you gonna let me in, or what?" his voice was gruff and low as always, though despite the lack of eloquence to his words, he wasn't attempting to be offensive. It was standard for his own people to speak like that, and he hadn't entirely rid himself of the habit, yet.
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Soubi wasn't anywhere near as worried about this. In University, he'd done inking, and he'd done etching, and this didn't seem to be more than a combination of the two. It was art in a different medium. How hard could it really be?
That confidence would probably pay off at some point tonight.
"My room is D. Go make yourself comfortable. I'm going to get the first aid kit, and I'll be in."
...though that probably didn't inspire a great deal of confidence in Darc.
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He raised one raven brow when the older man mentioned the first aid kit, though whilst it wasn't exactly something he was pleased to hear, it was hardly unexpected; he'd already been informed that this would in al likeliness be painful, and he couldn't imagine that pushing needles into one's skin wouldn't cause some damage. Besides, after many of the things he'd been forced to endure he doubted it would seem like such a big deal; it was Soubi's close proximity to him that made him feel the most edgy. Following the level of abuse he had suffered he was highly adverse to being touched unless he was very close to the person in question, but he knew this was something he had to do and was at least prepared for it.
Without another word, he he moved to do as he had been asked, heading to Soubi's room and placing the needles along with the ink he had procured down on the desk. Unselfconsciously, he proceeded to strip off the black tank top he was wearing before folding his arms across his chest as he waited for the other to return. The worst of his scars were now mostly on view; several littered his chest, along with the newer one reaching from his sternum to his navel courtesy of Stein, and the few he had obtained during week 103. His back displayed a few lash-scars clearly made by a whip, though it was the twin lacerations at his shoulder blades that were the most prominant; jagged and uneven, the push of snapped-off bone was just discernible beneath the healed-over flesh, now all that remained of his wings.
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The first aid kit landed on the bed beside Darc. Soubi was already pulling on a pair of latex gloves when he strode back into the room. He eyed the tools spread across his desk, tilting his head curiously. This was going to work somehow, but Soubi still hadn't quite figured out how. He'd make it up as he went along. Things always seemed to work better for him that way.
"So, where do you want it?"
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"My back, between my shoulder blades," he answered gruffly, his crimson eyes moving to scan the taller man's face, and after a moment he shrugged, his lips curving into the barest hint of a smile that nonetheless revealed the pointed tips of his fangs before answering; having no inhibitions at least made it a little easier to display such expressions, to show that he wasn't trying to be offensive with what he said next, "So if you fuck up at least I'm not gonna have to look at it."
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Soubi said this very matter-of-factly, as if there were no doubt in his mind. It might take a while, it might hurt like hell, but it would be copied down to the very last detail.
As for details, Soubi had redrawn the design previously shown to him. He flipped through his little makeshift sketchbook to find the page, spreading it out on the bed beside Darc. The lines were crisper, the edges a bit more stylized. Improved-upon, but not to any extreme degree. Soubi was quite aware that changing even one line in a character could shift the meaning. It wouldn't do to be behind the game before he even started playing.
The desk chair screeched slightly across the floor as he dragged it closer to the bed. He laid a clean towel out on the bed, flipping the first aid kit open to begin systematically ripping through the prep wipes, thoroughly wiping down each needle, and laying them out neatly on the towel.
"I'm only doing that much. If you want to make it nicer later, once I've figured this out, we can."
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He gave the design another once-over as Soubi laid it beside him; it was still a mystery to him how this archaic-looking pattern could spell out Izaya's name, but he didn't question it. This is what he had agreed to, and he was not going to back out, now. His crimson gaze moved away from the paper and back to the human in front of him as Soubi began to make the preparations, a hint of wariness showing through his hard-set expression, though again he made no attempt to voice his concerns; he didn't exactly like the look of the needles, but he merely reminded himself that he had no doubt experienced a lot worse.
"Alright," he responded, and though whether it needed to be made nicer at a later date would not be his decision, he made no mention of this. He hesitated just a moment, before adding, "should I lie down, or something?" He didn't really like the idea of putting himself in such a vulnerable position, and with a person he knew so little about - his strength and ability to wield magic far surpassed anything a normal human was capable of, but he'd been here long enough to know that many of the humans couldn't be measured by the standards of his own world, and that he should be wary of assuming he held the upper hand - but he also wanted to make this as easy as possible, and he was much less likely jar Soubi's hand whilst he worked if he were to lie down.
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Soubi didn't seem terribly concerned with positioning at the moment. He was simply focused on getting the equipment prepared. It was a damn good thing he was a meticulous person to begin with, because there were plenty of others who would simply breeze through this part of the process with no regard for what might happen.
Soubi had a rather... intimate piercing. Not that he would share this with Darc, but he'd done his fair share of research into the various processes of body modification. He knew dirty needles could lead to infection, and infection? That would be unpleasant at best, and he didn't need a half-dragon walking around with dermatitis and laying sole blame for it on him.
The ink was a little trickier, but after some switching and turning, he found a way to balance it between his long fingers in a way that wasn't too terribly precarious.
This would definitely be easier if he had an adjustable chair. Whatever, he was hunched over easels enough to be used to it. He took up the largest needle and stood.
"...actually, that would probably be easier. Lie down."
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"Hmm," he gave the other another short, sharp nod at being told to lie down, and despite the reservations he felt at being left in such a vulnerable position, he nonetheless moved to do as he had been bidden, so used to following orders that he failed to notice that - despite his customary abrasiveness and his assertion that he would only ever do what he wanted - he was still subconsciously primed towards obedience. He stretched out across the bed, lying on his front with his arms folded in front of him, his head resting on them and turned to the side to enable him to keep an eye on what the older male was doing.
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Or perhaps that was simply called feeling.
Soubi was still lost in thought when he dipped the tip of the needle into the ink. Wasn't this how it was done in Tibet? He thought he remembered watching a documentary about this once. Still, he wasn't entirely sure how he was going to manage this, not until the very moment he pressed the needle experimentally into Darc's skin. It was fascinating, the quiet snap when the sharp tip broke flesh and sank through, the way the ink pooled on the surface and spread like a stray drop of paint on an unprimed canvas.
It was difficult to tell whether or not that had worked. A moment after removing the needle again, Soubi grabbed for a towel and wiped the excess ink away. A dot, bold and dark between Darc's shoulderblades, seeping darkly. He couldn't decide whether that was blood or ink, but something about the way it bled held Soubi's gaze for a few tense moments.
And then he remembered this was someone else's skin.
"How did that feel?" Soubi asked, tilting his head to the side.
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He gave a mildly incredulous snort in response to Soubi's question a few moments later, though he remained motionless, waiting for the next swift stab of pain to radiate through his flesh. "It felt like someone stabbed a fucking needle into my skin, then pulled it out again. Obviously," he retorted, though he kept his strong reactions to mere physical contact to himself, "its hardly the worst thing I've ever felt, though. Carry on."
Seeing as he knew it was fairly obvious to anyone who looked at him that he was accustomed to pain, he didn't ever bother trying to gloss over that fact. Whilst his slavery wasn't exactly something he often spoke about, it would be clear to anyone who knew anything at all about battle that the majority of the halfbreed's marks were not battle scars.
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Even for a moment, even he made it look like an accident, that would be a bad idea.
But it was a slow and somewhat grueling process, even for Soubi. Skin was thicker than it seemed, and he could feel blisters beginning to rise on his fingertips before long from the effort of pushing the needle through. And after each prick, he had to wipe clean the puncture, clear the needle on the same towel, and dip it fresh into the inkwell. He seemed to grow more sure of himself as time wore on, though.
"What do these symbols mean?" Soubi asked, at length.
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He blinked his eyes open once again on hearing the other's question, remaining silent for several long moments as he debated on what to tell him. He seriously contemplated lying about it, and suggesting it meant nothing, but he supposed it wouldn't do any harm to give the other some idea of its significance. "Its a name. To show that....I'm bound to someone. Its traditional in my culture, though we don't usually use this method."
He had little doubt that the mark he had given Izaya was at least equal to the one he was receiving now, in terms of pain, and he could understand now why the other had asked him to do this. He of course had no idea that the human literally viewed him as property.
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Soubi didn't like the sound of that. It sounded far too much like something he was far too familiar with. Wasn't Soubi himself bound to two people already? The name carved into his throat, the barbed wire around his neck, the single butterfly in his earlobe; they all marked him as the object of another man, a belonging. Soubi was a powerful person, certainly; but still nothing more than a powerful tool at the mercy of his sacrifice.
What else was he good for, really?
Soubi was silent for a long while, stewing in his own self-pity. He wondered if it was coincidence that he and Darc met. He wishes, in a way, that he could speak of it, that he could share something with the half-drake, commiserate. They were so alike, beneath the surface. It was a little startling.
The simple design was more or less finished before he spoke again. The finishing touches were simply a matter of stippling in the parts where the ink was a bit uneven. Finally, he was able to sit up again, momentarily wincing at the stiffness in his back.
"Don't get up yet," Soubi was digging around in the first aid kit again.
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He of course had no way of knowing that this wasn't true, and while he was becoming increasingly aware that Izaya's behaviour towards him wasn't typical for humans, the possessiveness and attempts at being controlling were fairly typical Drakyr traits, so he took very little notice of them...Besides, while it was entirely subconscious and something Darc would have vehemently denied had anyone suggested it to him, after ten years of slavery he was far too accustomed to doing what other people wanted of him, to the point where he was not even aware he was doing it. He was only seventeen after all, and had spent almost his entire life as someone else's possession; it made it hard for him to tell the difference between normal and abusive behaviour.
He continued to endure the pain of Soubi's careful ministrations in silence, forcing himself to think of other things and to keep his teeth firmly gritted against the ache that was spreading uncomfortably through his skin. It came as a mild relief when the older male finally moved away from him, though the throbbing pain was most certainly still present, and he obediently remained where he was on hearing the other's instructions.While he could endure far more pain than he was currently afflicted with, it didn't mean he liked it, and he couldn't help hoping that the worst of it was over, now.
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Soubi couldn't imagine anyone being happy and well-adjusted with near-daily abuse, but he'd dealt with it without much in the way of sadness or complaint. Children had such an amazing capacity for coping and forgiveness.
"I remember Kio saying you need to keep it moisturized while it heals," Soubi explained, finally fishing the sterile cream out of the kit. "So I guess, use this for a couple of days until it's scabbed. Then use lotion until it's healed."
Soubi ripped open the cream and carefully smeared it over the fresh tattoo. His touch was far gentler now that he wasn't stretching Darc's skin across the area he was stabbing. That didn't make it comfortable, but Soubi was clearly making an effort to not hurt Darc more than he already had. When he was satisfied that it was adequately covered, he ripped open a square of gauze and patched the bandage over the tattoo.
"...done."
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