09.23.3013: Tattoo Traditions
Summary: Devon asks about Victor's tattoos and the tradition behind them.
Date: 12 September 2013
Related: Not Rats
Victor Devon 

Vic's Apartment, Blackspyre, Volkan
The entrance opens into a sitting room centered around a wide, deep couch of soft, worn brown leather. A dark wood coffee table sits before the couch, with a humidor and an ash tray atop it. Beyond the coffee table is a sizeable vidscreen, dominating one wall of the sitting room. A desk is tucked into a corner of the room behind the couch, with a half-fridge sitting alongside it.

A hallway departs from alongside the desk, leading back to a small bathroom, a study that holds a rack for his armor and his axe, a scattering of trophies from drake kills, and a bench sparsely populated by computer and electronics gear, including leads connecting the terminal to the armor rack. A simple chess board sits at one end of the bench, usually halfway through a game.

Beyond the study is a bedroom with a series of wide windows that look out over the southern quadrant of Volkan. The bed is plain, with ash-gray sheets, a comforter being rarely necessary in the center of the Crescent. A bedside table sits alongside the bed, holding a lamp, a datapad, and a music player. A bureau rests along one wall, alongside a closet that is only half full of clothes, mostly dark, ashen colors. The one spot of brilliant color in the room is a blaze-orange jersey from a famous Khournas Drakes striker from his childhood. It has been hung up in a glass case, where the black signature of the player in question stands out starkly across the numbers.

23 September 3013

Warning: PG-13 descriptions of nudity, Fade to Black

The wind still howls around the Blackspyre, intruding even into the secure rooms high up the ebon obelisk. Victor stands in the bathroom of the quarters he now shares with his wife-to-be, even if there is little of her in the room itself. He is stripped to the waist, examining the still-pink, still-tender scar across the left side of his back in the mirror. A frown touches his lips as he cranes this way and that, trying to get a better view of it.

Devon is in the bath tub of their shared bathroom, covered in a soft and iridescent blanket of bubbles. Her hair is up in a pile of wintry flaxen, pinned to keep it out of the hot water, though errant strands stick to her throat. She is resting her head back into a pillow on the edge of the tub, her eyes closed as she sinks into a state of relaxation. She has remained this way for a long moment before she looks up toward her husband-to-be, and she quirks her head a bit. "Why are you frowning?" She asks.

Victor gives up his study, leaning back against the simple black granite counter, "Trying to figure out what kind of tat to add." He lets that hang for a moment, then gestures up to the drake dancing between two of the puncture wounds up by his left shoulder, "Each one of these has a meaning." He takes in the oh-so-soft image of a woman he has come to know as not particularly soft in many ways, chuckling softly and letting a little smile touch his lips. "It's a Saimhann thing. Tattoos to mark important life events." He pulls the waistband of his pants down over the corner of his right hip, revealing the axe angled across there, "That's for my knighting, for instance."

The Ash Witch arches up a brow curiously as she regards his tattoos. Her toe lifts up from the water, twisting it a bit against the facet mouth. The thoughtful moment ensues for a few moments longer before she asks, almost cautiously, "Does that mean you will be getting a tattoo to honor our marriage?" Her gaze slides up to meet his own, shifting beneath the blanket of bubbles.

Victor nods his head, "'Course. It's a major life event, isn't it? I was thinkin' a water-horse inside that snake-thing biting its tail." And then his teeth flash white as a smirk that's half teasing and half challenging splits his lips, "I hadn't decided where I was gonna put it yet." His eyes flicker over toward the toe poking out of the bubbles, a he shrugs again.

Devon laughs in the wake of his challening grin, and she arches up a simple brow. "Over your heart… isn't that the romantic thing to do?" She then shakes her head a bit, dropping her foot back under the layer of bubbles as she does. Her head leans back into the pillow, and she touches her own slowly healing scar that has created a slash down across her sternum. "What makes that scar so important?" She asks, looking up toward him once more.

Victor snorts at that, "You keep that up," he half-turns away from her, smacking his ass lightly, "And I might put it here." Then the grin returns, and he leans back against the counter once more, "It's up to you, Dee." His broad shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, the twist and play of his muscles sending waves and ripples through the patchwork of scar tissue and ink across his skin as his attention is drawn by the touch of her hand to her chest, "It's a reminder not to turn my back on a Hostie. And it's the worst hit I've taken so far this war."

Devon laughs, though this time she shakes her head as she does. "I don't see how it is up to me, Vic… I'm certainly happy to provide suggestions, but…" Her smile holds a faint note of amusement before she sobers a bit. She stops rubbing at her own scar tissue, drawing up a pile of bubbles closer to her chest. "You shouldn't have hesitated… I would have been okay." Or dead. The fair-haired Grantham-Volen is thoughtful for a moment, and then she replies, "What do you think you would design to hallmark that?"

Victor reaches back to rub lightly at the still-healing scar, "Based on how nice you are before I get it." The words are accompanied by a low chuckle, which redoubles at the bubble-mountain being formed on her sternum, "Yeah, but I'd already gotten my back chopped in by then." His lips curve up into a dry smirk, "That's a whole other fuckin' issue. This, this was just overconfidence." Finally, he stops picking at the scar, settling his hands onto the counter behind him, "And I was figurin' on a gear. I tend to go for somethin' simple most of the time."

Devon draws her hand through the bubbles, gathering up a fistful. She blows out across the surface, popping the little clutch of suds. When she looks back up to him, she does so with a half-smirk. "Like a cog?" She asks before she stretches her foot again. There is a silent moment from the woman, her brow furrowed. "The Saimhann tradition is interesting," she says. "Are there those of the House that are entirely covered in tattoos?"

Victor nods his head at the first question, "Like a cog. For the foundry." He chuckles again as he watches her teasing and toying with the bubbles and the bath, "Yeah… any doubt I had that you were a Volen… totally fuckin' gone. Playin' around in the tub like that." The final question draws a little nod, "Damn near. Most keep 'em off the face, 'cause, you know, they have to be seen in public. But not everyone does. The smart ones, though, they leave room for more."

Devon arches up her brows expressively over her eyes. "Playing around in the tub?" She asks, her voice edged with innocence. Then she offers a laugh at the mention of his face. "And you do have a rather handsome mug," she teases him. Then she shakes her head, her lips curved with a wide smile. "Are you going to attempt to convince me to get one?" She asks.

Victor chokes at the over-innocent response, "Shit Dee… I don't fit in that damned tub alone." Still, he pushes off the counter to cross the bathroom, sitting down on the edge of the tub in his simple black pants, "Yeah, you keep trottin' out that line. I've seen myself in a mirror." Still, he's smiling, and he leans over to press a kiss to her lips. As he straightens up once more, he shrugs, "Nope. You want one, I'll take you to my tattoo artist, but I ain't gonna push it. Besides, it's a Saimhann thing, not a Khournas thing, even if you're still worried about fittin' in."

Immediately, Devon's cheek turn a vibrant pink and she offers a bit of a shy laugh. "I didn't mean that…" Then she shakes her head, and she breathes out a soft sigh. She rests her head back, eyes averted toward the bubbles as she considers this for a few heartbeats, and then she lifts her gaze up to meet his. "I will get one… for our marriage…" She hesitates. "Because it is something that is very important for both of us." Which is quite an upgrade from their first conversation on the outlook so many weeks ago.

Victor tilts his head to study the bubble-covered surface of the bathwater, chuckling and scooping up a dollop of bubbles, "Bullshit you didn't mean that." Again, that low chuckle nearly interrupts his teasing words, and he shakes his head in amusement. His teasing grin fades at her following words, and he nods slowly, "I'd like that, Dee." The admission is quiet, and he looks back up to her pale features, "But don't feel like you gotta."

"I don't," Devon says without hesitation. "I don't feel obligated. I am doing this out of desire." She casts a smile up toward him before she offers a faint splash up in his direction. Then she tilts her head up to smile at him. "What do you think I should get? A drake of some kind?" She smirks. "A smoldering cigar?"

Victor tries to scoot back from the splash, but it still darkens the side of his pants, and he shakes some of the bubbles off his hand in the direction of her face, "Hey!" His laughter redoubles at her suggestions, "Not a big fuckin' axe?" He dips his hand into the water, swirling about under there and quite coincidentally goosing at the outside of her near thigh, "Drake'd be pretty cool. Any thoughts on where you'd want it?"

Devon laughs at the swirls and goosing, though she casts him a playful glare. "I don't know…" she pauses before she tilts her head. "Perhaps one crawling up my leg?" She pulls her left leg out of the water, revealing the long length of pale skin with bits of bubbles still clinging to the fine canvas.

Victor leans back a little, shifting so he can put her raised heel up to his shoulder and look down the bubbled length of leg, "Crawling up…" And his fingers rise up to mime the gesture, blunt, dark figures skittering up her calf and over her knee to the more delicious skin of her thigh, "The outside? The inside?" At each little question, his fingers make a rush along the mentioned section of leg.

The Ash Witch bites softly at her lower lip at the smooth gesture of the otherwise blunt hand. Her eyes follow the climb of his fingers before the rushed gesture causes her breath to catch. "I don't know… it would be seen more if it was on the outside, though I suppose it could climb up and around." She tilts her head, resting her heel into his shoulder as her hip relaxes. "What do you think?"

Victor settles his left hand just above her knee, leaning forward just a little to slide his right hand up to the point of her hip beneath the the bubbly surface, "How 'bout up here? Then when you show off in somethin' that shows off some skin, people could see the head." His teeth flash white in the midst of a grin, "Then again, you've gotta be willin' to show off anywhere you get the tat to the person doin' it. Lemme just say, the time the drake bit me in the ass was real embarrassing."

Devon maintains his gaze as his fingers slide up her skin, and she intakes a sharp breath at the pressure of his fingertip. She blushes a soft pink at the idea of the head of the drake, and she bows her chin a bit. "You think I'm not willing to show off my leg to your artist friend?" She tilts her head a bit now, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Do you think that, that is a good idea? The head peeking over my hip?"

Victor shakes his head at the question, "I'm thinkin' you wouldn't be keen on lyin' on a table for Damien just wearin' a sheet from the waist down." His hand flattens out along her hip, about where they're discussing placing the tattoo, "Because if you get a tat here, there can't be anything in the way of the ink." As he speaks, his left hand caresses the inside of her thigh just above her knee gently, "I think if you want it somewhere you can both hide it and show off, it's not a bad idea. But it's gotta be your choice. Anythin' permanent that you're gonna do to your body, it's gotta be all you."

Devon holds his gaze steadily with hers, and then she starts to smile in a smooth and graceful curve of pale lips. She curls her toes a bit, looking quite pleased. "I think it would be a good place…" She tilts her head a bit. "You won't get upset about this Damien fellow seeing that much of my skin?" There is a soft teasing in her tone, her brows arching questioningly over her eyes.

Victor laughs quietly, shaking his head, "Damien's a pro." Leaning slowly forward and letting her lower leg slip over his shoulder as he bends down and forward, he presses another slow kiss to her lips, smiling against them as he straightens up, "Besides, if I'm gettin' my snake and water-horse, I'll be there the whole time to make sure that the sheet doesn't fuckin' slip."

Devon's leg slides slowly over his shoulder, bending over the strong curve as he leans down toward her. Her body curls inward a bit to accept the kiss, and she breathes out a slow exhale through a nose. She slides a hand up to touch his shorn skull, gracing her fingertips down against the back of his neck. Then she closes her eyes slowly, almost sighing when he straightens up. "It is called a hippocampus," she corrects in a warm voice. Her eyes lift to meet his.

Victor settles his hand on Devon's stomach beneath the water, "Water-horse, hippocampus…" His eyelids lower slowly as he lets her leg slide off his shoulder, his fingers brush down over her stomach once more, across the inside of her thigh, and then slip out to brace his lean over her. "…drake, dragon… it's a nice slippery thing under the water… does the real name matter? Now when are you gonna get outta that tub where I can get to you?"

Devon laughs huskily against his lips before she tilts her head up toward his. Her smile is light and casual, but there is a slow-burning heat beneath it. She then starts to slide up to her feet, dropping her leg off his shoulder as she does. She cares not for the water that cascades off her form as she stands, stepping out of the tub easily. "About now is good," she informs him.

Victor offers up a hand to help her up to her feet, rising up himself. Watching the suds cascade off his wife-to-be, he smiles widely. When she starts to step out of the tub, however, he reaches down to her waist to actually lift her free. He also takes the opportunity of the lift to press another kiss to her lips. Setting her down once more, he laughs, reaching around to swat the generous curve of her ass, "Into the shower with you. And me."

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