nextgenerationmarvel | Ink Recommendation

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Ink Recommendation

Alisa's eyes looked at the tattoo parlor in front of her, and then back to Alistaire Shaw. One, she could not believe her new "boss" had ink of any sort and two, she could not believe her luck in finally getting her long awaited marking done. With a scroll and wooden box tucked under her arm, she began to walk into the tattoo parlor. Alistaire was escorting her, but she doubted he would stay for the session. Well, first session anyway. This was going to be a full back tattoo and could take some time, and a few sessions.

"T'ank you for your 'elp, Alistaire. I feel like I owe you one, in some odd, strange way."

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"...No angry people." Viveca looked down at her hands. "The Special Needles it is, then." Viveca Von Roehm could control herself, but she never stopped being angry, and she didn't want to take risks on a project.

The ink...okay. It wasn't a used inkwell. She'd take the facts and stick to them. It was clearly, between that and the design, a secret club thing, so she wouldn't ask pointless intrusive questions about those aspects.

Viveca got twitchy if she thought too much about secret club things. And she hated being twitchy. She was an artist.

She heads into the back first, re-disinfects the area. "Come on over, get the shirt off, and lie down."

Without a single bit of hesitation, Alisa stripped herself of her neck tie, blouse, and bra... as the damn thing would get in the way of the process. Casually, she walked over to the tattoo area and laid on the table that was disinfected.

"Should I give Alistaire my last words?" It was a bad joke, but it did get a smirk to form on her own face.

"He's started letting people have the last word?" Viveca manages a slight smile herself as she handles the cleaning and -- with lots of breathing to make sure she's not going to mess them up -- the gloves. Once Alisa's back is fully disinfected, she gets ready to do the outlines.

Alistaire leans against a wall, rather than sitting, flipping through something on a tablet device. "Hah. Hah." He gives a brief response to Viveca's barb, with about as much weight. His gaze wanders between his reading material and the work in progress.

Her hair was pushed in front of her, almost giving her an auburn lion's mane. All Alisa could do was try and remain perfectly still as the outlines were being applied.

"Oui an' non. It depends on de situation, I believe. He always gets de first word, t'ough. Like 'ow he barges into my office an' makes demands." Alisa chuckled a little, closing her odd eyes as she relaxed a little more. "Actually I kinda like dat when he does dat. Nothin' sexier den a guy who knows what he wants, when he wants it, an' 'ow he wants it. Unlike dem stupid snobs who come to me AFTER dey buy fake art an' expect me to tell dem it's real."

"To all their own when it comes to ... sexy." Alistaire was far from Viveca's type. Not that Viveca would ever go around telling anybody what her type was. She focused on getting the linework all laid out, then, when that was finally done, unwrapped the needles, prepped teh inkwell, and got to work.

The minute the needle went in, Alisa's face showed a bit of discomfort, but then she appeared to relax. Her eyes looking like they were zoning out to adjust to the discomfort a tattoo can give someone. Her breathing was slow and steady, body still as stone. It was somewhat odd yet impressive to see. As if she had been trained on what to do to remove herself from feeling any physical pain.

"Oui, to each their own..."

Edited 2012-12-31 06:09 (UTC)

Viveca can't tell from looking what precise technique Alisa is using, but she's familiar with the broad general principle, and she sticks to her work.

At length. The line design, complete with how to shade, then getting out the Special Needles and prepping in terms of the ink, her hands exceptionally firm and steady.

Her lip twitched at one point. The line work of a tattoo is a cake walk, it's when the shading and detail were being done that was the hard part. She was used to pain to a degree. Her powers allowed bullets to bounce off her, but leave bruises in their wake. Knives to bend once they touched her skin, leaving only a papercut behind. But that was when she was at full power. When she was powered down, she could feel pain and be hurt like anyone else on this planet.

But Enforcers rarely showed pain, if they did it was a sign of weakness and worthlessness. You did not cry, you did not show pain. You were a sword and shield for your Guild and "King". So while this hurt like a mofo, she refused to show even the slightest bit of discomfort or pain. Instead her mind drifted off into some place happy.

Alistaire supposed this was the sort of scenario where one was supposed to have something encouraging to say, but that just really wasn't how his mind worked. He settled for giving occasional supportive glances in Alisa's direction, nodding every so often.

And Viveca, in turn, despite the precaution of getting out the Special Needles, was trying her best not to let her usual cold rage get become an ...inconvenience. That was always something of the case when working, since as a professional she liked to keep the gloves intact during the process and not rip out of them as her fingernail-claws grew.

Otherwise, she just worked steadily until commenting. "So, you're with Alice professionally?" Because she didn't know how asking if Alistaire ahd roped her into his cheerleading squad would go over, and she wasn't fond of discussing the Club in anything but euphemisms.

"Oui, I work for him as an art appraiser an' authenticator. He hires me to look at art an' tell'em if it's fake or real, or worth its value." Well, she did MORE than that, but preferred to keep what else she did hidden from society if possible. "Gettin' paid to put rich bitches in dere place is like a dream job for me. Usually, I'm hired by morons who wouldn' know a real Picasso if I held it up to dere face. 'course, I am known for bein' brash, straight forward, slightly rude, but ALWAYS right when it comes to artwork. It's why I still 'ave clients."

"Being good at what one does has its perks," she agrees. After a pause, because Alistair had the right, after a fashion, to play the games he did, and any adults associatse he had had the right to join the circus, but... "You don't have kids, do you?" Because no one had the right to bring a kid even remotely near Club business.

"Please, tell me dat was a joke." She sighed. "Non, I am childe-less. I wouldn' 'ave time to care for a childe an' it wouldn' be right to bring a kid into dis world if I couldn' care for'em. Kids should 'ave a stable enviroment to be raised in, a Mother an' Father, an' all dat jazz."

In other words, if she was ever going to have a child, it would grow up far differently than she did. A more stable and loving enviroment, along with the chance to actually be a child. But she did not see any such plans in her future, or ever.

Alistaire visibly gagged at the mention of children, but otherwise said nothing.

Alistair she'd already checked. Viveca wasn't going to take anything for granted.

"Exactly. Good." She kept working.

Alisa could not help but grin at Alistaire's reaction. "My feelings to a tee, Alistaire. I really don' want any, myself." At least that is what she kept telling herself. Her branch of the Guild meant the few female members they had would remain child-less as it could impact their jobs. Unless they retired, and Alisa did not wish to retire.

"I mean, I'm what? twenty four or so? I got too much to do to even T'INK about children."

Alistaire smiles slightly. "I appreciate the air of dignity that having an older woman in my employ presents."

"By only TWO years, Alisatire. Well... as far as I know it's only a two year difference between de two o' us." She rolled her eyes. "I ain' DAT old. Even if it was meant to be a compliment, you make me sound like a cougar..."

"Less voice raising. It shifts your shoulders. And I'm older than both of you." Which Viveca feels is obvious.

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