It was when he looked down at his forearm whilst plunging the sponge into a bucket, filled with soapy water, blood diffused in it to make it the color of a blush, that he noticed his forearm looked rather bare. Kaede had never been a pale man, yet as an Infected, the need for shade and darkness had turned his skin white, making the tattoos that decorated his body even more saturated and stark. He noticed, with a frown, how light his forearm looked, even in the dusky red lamps of the Blood Den. Deciding that he hated how naked his skin was, he finished cleaning up the mess made by his prior customer, slipped into some jeans that were baggy and worn and headed for Puck's.
It was a miracle he had found the man. When he first arrived in the Stronghold, it seemed the inhabitants were too busy worrying about their next meal to keep anything like a tattoo parlor in business. However, as Kaede and Kaleb descended further into the city, and the people looked fuller and more willing to indulge in pleasantries, he had found a dozen places like Pucks scattered about. He had the tattoos to show from each of them, yet none were quite as elaborate or well-planned than how Puck did his designs.
Along the way, he mused on what he would get. He had been meaning to get another tattoo to remind him of Kaleb, perhaps an image of cliffs looking out over the sea, for that's the feeling he got when he looked into his brother's eyes, the awe and mysticism. Or maybe even a thrush, a songbird that was beautiful in both appearance and voice but fragile and skittesh, quite like Kaleb. Yeah, the thrush was a good idea. Hopefully Puck knew what that was.
Kaede entered the parlor, one of the many businesses erected on looping pedways that once spanned a great city, now sleeping in ruin. The smell in the air shifted noticeably, from the smoky thickness of food vendors that surrounded the area to a scent that was almost sterile, tinged with ink.
There, he waited, hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans, looking around the parlor with mild interest.
There was something to be said for the freedom that came with creativity. The ability to pick up a pen, set it to paper, and create something unique and beautiful. But more than that it was an act of creation that didn’t require anything but himself to make it happen. It came from his own two hands and it was born of his mind, an expression of the emotions inside that he didn’t quite admit to or acknowledge all the time yet were always there. Those emotions that crept up inside him and ate away at him from time to time. It was a way to let them out, to expose them to the world without having to fully take credit for them himself. After all, people would always put their own spin and interpretation on what he created no matter what so they’d never quite know the truth of the artwork either.
It was his form of cathartic release… or, well one of them anyway. One that allowed him to deal with a lot of the more intense emotions that tended to boil just under his skin and eat away at his bones, making them feel porous and weak. Even now he turned to it when he was in a mood or just in the right mood to do so. Honestly it was actually far more rare for him not to be doodling something nearly all the time. It seemed to be one of his ways to keep his hands busy while his mind worked and the level of focus given to whatever he was doing was simply adjusted based on how much focus he needed to give elsewhere.
He was just putting the finishing touches on the piece he was working on when he heard the little alarm go off to let him know someone had entered the front of the shop. Not that the shop had a lot more space than the front area but it did have a little back room he used as a studio. The space was mostly taken up with all his art supplies and reference books too. A lot of stuff that he had collected over the years of his life and finally had a singular space to keep them in. A space that felt like a safe little haven for him to retreat to when necessary. But he’d have to leave it now and deal with whomever was there to see him and whatever they needed. He had to admit to being curious, if only for the sake of a potentially interesting piece to work on.
But not quite enough to get up without finishing what he was in the middle of, they could wait a few minutes. It was only about five before he was standing from his little desk and going through the door into the shop proper, head lifting and turning to look towards the door. Slowly his lips curled into a wide grin and he lengthened his strides to come up to Kaede with a low chuckle.
”Hey man! Here for a new piece or a touchup?” His voice was, of course, excited as he spoke, honestly quite eager to find out what this particular client wanted. He liked doing work for Kaede even when it was just touch up work, it was always enjoyable to work on a repeat client.
The Infected didn't have to wait long before a familiar blonde head approached him, smile spread over sharp, comely features. Kaede's eyes were naturally drawn to the canvas of ink that started just below the shadow of Puck's jawline and covered (Kaede guessed) about every inch of skin beneath, blending flesh and fabric to make the dark, athletic outline of Puck's body. For politeness sake, he drew his gaze back up when it reached Puck's navel area.
"Something new," Then, Kaede pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and flashed Puck the bare skin of his pale forearm. "Do you know how to draw any birds? Thrushes, to be exact."
The request was not typical of Kaede. Looking at the that smattering of tattoos over Kaede's strong body which, compared to Puck's, was a painting hardly completed, one would not expect such a sentimental, delicate animal. The first ink he'd ever gotten was a sprawl of script just on the small of his back, a "tramp stamp" as his teammates had called it, that read "Property of Sams". In the haze of his past life, Kaede could not have recalled what Sam looked like, only that he was a player on his team and apparently had been the winning end of a bet that Kaede lost.
The script had since become faded, but its influence was still present in the other artwork drawn across Kaede's body, pieces that had varying degrees of beauty and meaning. Kaede had not since gotten a tattoo with such value, for he had trusted no one to convey it well. But as Kaede watched Puck's careful fingers and honed focus, he was beginning to confide in his tattoo artist those softer parts of himself. Not through fanciful words and idle conversations, but through Puck's expert craftsmanship, as he proved to wield an iron better than anyone.
Oh yes, Puck had a thing for ink. On his own skin, on others, just in general. He liked ink and it showed on his own body. The colors and designs snaking over so much of his skin one might be forgiven for thinking he didn’t have any more space for yet another tattoo. But he had a few small places, ones that he had yet to cover with… something. One day they’d be covered too. He even had some on the shaved sides of his head and his face, though the facial ones were minimal at this point and left his handsomeness untouched. Or more likely he just hadn’t decided what would be the very best idea to do there.
The smile that was already on his lips only grew as he watched Kaede because he was not unaware of the way the other man’s eyes had shifted over his form. He did not in the least mind someone looking and wouldn’t have given two shits if Kaede had stared lower than he allowed himself to do so. Truly he was not the kind to feel an ounce of shame and likely would have walked around naked if someone hadn’t reminded him, on a near daily basis, that the general public did frown upon someone being naked. Or maybe it was his own minor self preservation that kept him from doing so because he didn’t really want to get himself arrested… though, dependong on who was doing it? Yeah, he might be okay with that and a very physical frisking. Pun on his name fully intended.
New? Oh now that was fun! He always did like new things and already he was moving forward. His fingers wrapped around the arm flashed at him as he eyed the space, his mind already planning out ideas. Best to get a feel of the space for it after all. He looked up though as he was asked if he knew how to draw birds.
”Oh yeah! I got one of those old school birding books that I found at one point. I can check for a reference in there but I’ve done some birds before. Though that’s a new one for you… still, would look damned good here.” He tapped the space that Kaede had shown him and finally let the arm go. Birds weren’t the hardest thing if you asked him but making it a specific one was a little rougher. Still, he was pretty sure he could get it close enough to make it look like this particular species. ”You wanting just the bird or anything with it?” While his mind had run wild with ideas now it was at least semi-focused and planning out where and hwo the bird might look best in that space.
He turned back towards the back and twitched his fingers at Kaede for the man to follow, letting him into the small back room where he kept all his art supplies. It was his little sanctuary but he wasn’t inclined to prevent others from straying inside… just prevent them staying too long. But he let Kaede follow as he headed for the shelf of books to look for that birding book.
Already, Puck reached forward, wrapping strong fingers around Kaede's forearm. The artist's eyes dropped to the blank space on that arm, surveying it with the careful eye of an artist, denoting designs and patterns that were invisible to brash actionists like Kaede. He allowed the touch, whilst he stifled the urge to reach out and pull the artist closer, to hear and further feel the blood pulsing through his veins. Kaede was rarely starved for blood, as their business revolved around keeping Infecteds fed, but even as his hunger was satiated, the cruel and bestial side of him slumbered, ever alert to the slightest hint of its next feeding time.
Kaede coped by focusing on other things. For instance, as his head began to draw closer, fangs teasing for release, his eyes flitted to the top of Puck's head, the nest of blonde curls that had Kaede wondering in the next instant what the artist did to keep his hair so immaculately wavy. When the pad of Puck's fingers ghosted over Kaede's skin, and he had to suppress the shivers that ran down his back like water drips, he forced his gaze upward, to admire Puck's framed designs that lined the walls.
Puck's voice was hopeful, and it gave Kaede reassurance that the quality of designs etched into his skin would only go up. The Infected smiled at the artist's confidence and he considered Puck's question, steel blues grazing over the exposed skin.
"I guess.. could you add the letters KD in there somewhere? Doesn't have to be big. In fact, I don't think I'd want it to be easily seen." For his relationship with Kaleb still felt like a secret, and though they were not hiding it in lieu of a particular person (for the people that would disapprove of their special bond were already dead), Kaede was uneasy about flaunting it to the world.
He followed Puck to the back, a smaller room crammed with more of Puck's tattoo designs. Kaede's eyes bounced from one to the other as Puck rifled through for his birding book.
"I'm surprised you haven't put the other salons out of business already," Kaede stated, crossing his arms and gazing upon the collection appraisingly. "I can't think of an artist that comes half as close in quality as you."
One particular piece caught his eye and, without asking for Puck's permission (as Kaede rarely asked for anything) he bent down and retrieved it to look upon it with a closer eye. "What's this one?" he asked without taking his eyes off the canvas.
Personal space were two words that Puck just did not get. They meant nothing to him and he regarded the very concept as laughable. Then again he was in a line of work that literally involved him putting hands on people on the daily because how was he meant to do a tattoo on them otherwise? Then again he also ran the branch of the Jabberwockies that dealt in the flesh, literally and figuratively speaking. So maybe it wasn’t surprising that he lacked the concept or at least lacked the respect for that concept. Or maybe he just really liked touching people and their own opinions be damned.
So, no, he had no issue being all up in Kaede’s personal space and putting hands on him. Nor would he actually have minded had Kaede given in to his desire to tug him closer. But he might have drawn the line at being snacked on… no, no he actually probably would not have. Really he’d probably like it just so long as he didn’t die in the end or become like the zombies outside. Then again he wasn’t really aware of that side of Kaede so he simply wasn’t thinking of that. He was very much conscious of the way muscle moved under skin and pulled it taught because that was what would make the difference for this tattoo. That and the texture of the skin there.
”I can probably work them in. Possibly into some of the feather designs.” Already his mind was thinking of ways he could actually add in the lettering. It wouldn’t be all that difficult to do so in a way that wasn’t overly obvious. No need to put them just right there with the bird. He could work them into the bird itself in one way or another. There were enough lines that went into making up a bird that would allow him to make that addition.
Atgain is bran spiraled off into the ideas of what he could actually do to work the lettering in. There were more obvious ways and less obvious ones. He was inclined to think that Kaede might prefer something a little more subtle but still prevalent enough to be found if looked for. After all there was no point in adding it if you could never find where it was added too!
He shoved a few more books back on the shelf before he glanced over at Kaede and laughed. ”Mostly because not everyone can afford my services. And I refuse to do certain things. I ain’t gonna do some janky ass bullshit just because soemone wants it on their body. They can go to one of those other hacks if that’s the shit they’re looking for.” He had fucking standards after all! He wasn’t about to lower those for anyone when it came to his work.
He snagged the book from his shelf and turned to see what Kaede was looking at. He didn’t really mind Kaede looking at his shit, if he hadn’t wanted him to he would have told him to wait in the other room. Instead he walked over and peaked over his shoulder to see which one he was looking at.
This particular piece was a forest scene that was fogged over and a little blurred. The only clear thing was the set of eyes that seemed to pear out of a shadowed figure's face, bright golden against the blackness that formed the shape of a man with antlers. And the woman’s body resting at the figure's feet and seeming to writhe in ecstasy.
”Oh, it's Cernunnos. An old horned forest god. Found him in a book on mythology I found.” He had a weird collection of books at this point. Many that others would delight in taking from him yet he still held onto, refusing to give up any of it.
He felt Puck move closer, could smell him in the waft of air that signaled his presence just beside his shoulder. Kaede breathed in, out, going through the well-worn and familiar routine to keep his fangs from exposing themselves, and that horrible little secret that kept him alive.
What peaked his interest was Puck's explanation of the artwork in his hand. The shadowed figure, rigid and proud, antlers protruding from his head- the slender woman curled before him, arched like a cat. "God," Kaede repeated aloud as he studied the piece. It was no god Kaede had ever seen. Though his memories of the time before were perhaps clearer than with other Infected due to the keystone that was his brother, most of them still came in blurred and unfinished images, like he were looking at his past through a heavily smudged window.
Despite that, he had recalled some of his relative's devotion to what they called "God", his own half-hearted attendance of the Church. The God of Christianity, the prophet Jesus, a statue of which hung above the altar at Kaede's hometown church house. The figure did not match their understanding of what that god had looked like. He had seen them depicted as men, human, pale of skin and lush with hair. It peeked Kaede's curiosity, though as he opened his mouth to inquire about what pantheon the god belonged to, he stopped himself.
Puck would not remember that. Not Christianity, not Judasim, not any. The old religions didn't exist here, and whatever faith did, they were mutant versions, molded from a variety of past scriptures and people's newfound fear of Infected.
So, instead, Kaede set the canvas down to where he picked it up, feigned an interest that was not quite as profound as he felt.
"Is it based off your own experiences?" Kaede said with a playful drawl, a nod to the lecherous woman at the God's feet.
Puck smiled, nodding his confirmation at the single word response. ”Yes, a god. It seems there were quite a few back in the old days an dsome of them were very strange. That one seems to be forest related and, frankly, I like him.” Of course there had been others in that book, gods or goddesses for nearly everything it seemed. It was as if all those people of the past needed something to pray to over every little thing that happened in their lives! Like nothing could possibly be accomplished without some divine intervention of one kind or another. How did any of them survive? Well he supposed some of them had to or they wouldn’t exist now since they’d needed those ancestors to be around to make them and all. But he hardly saw any reason to believe that some deity existed and if they did? Well they were obviously the twisted kind that had little to no love for the humans left on this earth.
No he would rather believe in the power of his own two hands. Of the things that he had built with them. The things he had crafted and the power he had gathered. That he could see or at least he could see the results of it all around ihm. And he could be sure of himself, of his own power and ability. And as such he was far more apt to believe in that than any fucking god that someone suggested existed. Though he was aware there were some who clung to the beliefs that they claimed came from before the whole world went to shit but since no one had the whole story anymore it was really just more desperate bullshit cobbled together to try to make it so their lot in life wasn’t brought on themselves by their own shitty choices but rather something beyond their control. It was just a bunch of weak whiners who seemed desperate to blame anyone but themselves for the shit that happened to them. Cowards, all of them.
That had his mind stirring in other directions and drew a laugh from him. ”Perahps…. I won’t deny it might be at least somewhat taken from my own life.” Oh he had for sure taken some of that imagery from his own life. It wasn’t like he was one of those old time saints after all! He had no reason to withhold himself from temptation. And, if anything, as the Ace of Hearts he had all the more reason to indulge in such things.
Posted 09-17-2021, 07:53 PM
This post was last modified: 09-17-2021, 07:55 PM by Kaede Winchester
i heart mom
