Closed Post: Ink

[sorrowandsorrow]

Janet's been doing a lot of research. No, seriously -- a lot. She's a good magician, but she's not the best magician she knows. She was a good student at Brakebills, but she wasn't the best student at Brakebills. She was a stellar queen, but a lot of that was bluffing and expecting other people to follow her orders. She's certainly never been a fucking tattoo artist before.

What she's come up with is an abomination that would make half her professors faint dead away. She's cobbled together a modified Cavaleri Animation, about two and three-quarters of the principles that go into making a Reed's Mark, and a whole lot of bullshit that she sincerely hopes is going to hang together.

With a significantly bizarre assortment of items assembled in a tote bag, she goes on the hunt for Galahad, hoping he's somewhere that Claudius isn't.

Comments

[onthewillowsthere]

Luckily for Janet, Galahad is in the kitchen, and he's just put his dough aside to proof, covering it with a damp tea towel; he's washing dishes at the sink. The weather is still too cold for him, in spite of how bright and clear the day as been, and he's wearing a sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he works.

[sorrowandsorrow]

Target acquired. Janet's stride gains some additional briskness when she sees him. She resettles the shoulder strap of her tote bag and, as she actually walks through the kitchen door, says, "Hey."

[onthewillowsthere]

He stops, dries his hands, turns, and then says, "Good afternoon, your majesty."

[sorrowandsorrow]

At least somebody around here has some respect. "Are you ready to get inked?" Janet asks, as casually as she can.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Does that mean everything is ready?"

[sorrowandsorrow]

"As ready as it'll ever be," Janet says, honestly. She practiced on an orange. The orange is sitting on her desk with a reasonably credible reproduction of the Survivor logo tattooed onto one of its side.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Please tell me what to do," he says, as he takes off his apron.

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Have you eaten today? Hydrated? I assume you haven't had anything alcoholic." Although, hey, what does Janet know? Maybe Galahad's an it's five o'clock somewhere kind of guy.

[onthewillowsthere]

"I have eaten and drunk." None of it alcohol.

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Great." Janet gives him a quick once-over. "Then all you need to do is pick a place you'll be comfortable lying on your stomach for a while."

[onthewillowsthere]

"On the floor, or on a bed or couch?"

[sorrowandsorrow]

"I said comfortable, didn't I?" She's a little extra prickly. Definitely not from nerves or anything.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad gives her a long, probably mildly unsettling look, and heads off for a parlor. When they arrive he takes off his sweater and lies down on his stomach on the couch. The scratches Dro gave him are almost healed, but there are still long silvery scars on his pale skin.

[sorrowandsorrow]

Janet follows him, shaking off the unsettling vibe of that look. He's just a guy, practically a kid. And he asked her to do this, apparently cognizant of all the risks.

In the parlor, she pulls up an ottoman and sets her bag on it, perching on the edge of the coffee table. It's as she's stretching out her hands, flexing her fingers, that she spots the scars on Galahad's back and frowns. "You okay?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"Drosera climbed on my back," he says, as he folds his sweater. "Claudius says she has bad claw manners."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Bad claw manners is right. That looks like it was nasty." She frowns at his back, not that he'll see it. "Drosera's your griffin, right?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"Magnus's and mine," he agrees.

[sorrowandsorrow]

Janet likes Magnus, pretty much, even though he does not seem like he's as old as he claims to be. It's fine either way; she had her first margarita as a teenager. From her bag, she starts drawing some supplies: a tattoo gun, but notably one with no cord, a few tattoo needles, the sketch Galahad originally gave her, some Telfa pads, a Tupperware of sheep's blood. You know, normal tattooing supplies. "She's pretty ugly," Janet says, "but I bet she'll look badass when she's done growing."

[onthewillowsthere]

"She looks better now. She has all her flight feathers." He's perfectly still while she sets up.

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Can she actually fly yet?" Despite herself, Janet's genuinely interested. The flying magical creatures were always some of her favorites. She unfolds Galahad's drawing and sets it to the side where she'll be able to reference it easily.

[onthewillowsthere]

"I don't know. She's with Magnus most of the time." And he and Magnus haven't been spending much time together lately. When Galahad thinks about that he feels a sort of queasy feeling in his stomach.

[sorrowandsorrow]

If Janet did pick up on any subtext there, she wouldn't mention it. Or maybe she doesn't even notice. "Well, you better find out and report back." She slides a needle into the gun and tightens it, then takes the lid off her blood Tupperware. (You know. Normal tattooing supplies.) "Okay, last chance to back out."

[onthewillowsthere]

"No, thank you," Galahad says politely.

[sorrowandsorrow]

His funeral. That's probably about as good as a signed consent form, right? Well -- oh well. Janet takes a deep breath, glancing out the window to take note of the weather and then at the clock to take note of the time for the Circumstances. "I don't think this'll hurt like a real tattoo, but it won't not hurt," she warns him.

[onthewillowsthere]

"I have been hurt before." He flutters the fingers of his burned hand against the couch.