Helen pushed open the door of the tattoo parlor. A small bell at the top of the door rung, alerting the employees of her arrival. Helen ran her hand through her hair, and took a deep breath, making sure this is what she wanted. She was sure, though, even if she was having second thoughts. She wanted a tattoo to represent the renewing of her life – her re-entering society and starting over again. She would have laughed at the face her grandmother would have made for getting such a thing.
A bald man with a lithe frame approached her with a warm smile. He shook her hand, and asked her what kind of tattoo she would like to have. Helen bit her lip, she hadn’t quite thought about that. She was thinking of a flower design maybe… But she knew she wanted it on her ankle.
Noticing her delay of a response, the young man took her over to his chair and showed her his gallery of previous artworks. Helen looked through them, and then knew what she wanted. It was a particular lily, which was woven around a black tribal design with a butterfly at the top. She pointed to it, attracted to the brilliant purples and blues, accompanied by reds and oranges jumping from the page. She looked to Michael, to see if he approved. “What do you think, Michael?”
A tattoo? Of all the ways to celebrate... He just didn't understand these young fledglings these days... Tattoos... The perminant marking of skin? Such a thing had always been against his way of thinking. The human body was already perfect. Well her's was anyway. It was only by accident he had seen her the other night as she dressed... She was amazingly formed... Small and slight... She in truth had reminded him of his wife in form and ached to hold her against him. But of course he kept that little thought to himself and his mental barriers were strong enough to keep his adopted fledgling from prying anyway...
Yes... She was his fledgling, not his lover... He had to keep reminding himself of that and he couldn't quite figure out why.
"Hm?" He murmured as he came out of his thoughts. "They are lovely designs..." He admitted. "But are you sure you wish to mark your body in such a way that it will not be able to be returned to normal?" Tattoos of the skin had always reminded him of the turks and muslims that he had fought all those centuries ago and it rather unnerved him. After all, people who tried to kill you several times you tended to get rather paranoid about certian things.
((Sorry bout the wait... Been busy and just not in the mood to RP...))
Helen had always been a child of the moment, and usually failed to think things out. She nodded her head in reassurance to Michael, and a small smirk could be seen forming upon her red lips, stained from one of her earlier meals. She looked over the tattoo design once more, and memorized each line that was intended for her body.
Helen went over to Michael for a brief moment, and squeezed his hand, her eyes held such an excitement he never would have seen in her otherwise. She went to the blad man, and pulled out a wad of money she had in her pocket, and handed it to him. She carefully undid the laces of her boots, slipped off her sock, and placed her white, pale ankle upon the table, sitting in a cushioned chair, and awaited the buzzing needle.
The bald man chuckled at Helen's eagerness, put the money in the cash register, and put an outline of the tattoo of Helen's choice on her ankle. He carefully peeled the tracing from her cool skin, and dipped his needle into some black ink. He asked for her reassurance once again, to make sure this is what she wanted. Helen nodded, and looked again at Michael. The needle started to buzz, and the initial touch to Helen skin, and a smile, an actual smile spread across Helen's face. This was it. This, was her rebirth into the world she had died from so many years ago.
