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

[sorrowandsorrow]

Janet's ice cream is down the hatch within a matter of seconds. Definitely less than a minute. She licks the spoon clean contemplatively. "Seven for me."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Five," Galahad says, "and a half." His voice is as close to judgemental as you can get with a flat affect.

[sorrowandsorrow]

The little edge of distaste there makes Janet laugh. "Damn," she says, "was it almost at a six and then you had to dock points?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"I don't like cheesecake," gazing down at the bowl.

[sorrowandsorrow]

"You've gotta be in the minority there, buddy," Janet says consolingly. "More for me, I guess. Except real cheesecake's better than this, if you ask me."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Is it more or less sour?"

[sorrowandsorrow]

Sour is not a word Janet would have ever used to describe cheesecake, of all things, but she pulls a little face as she thinks it over. "More, I think. But in a good way? Maybe not in a good way if tartness is a bad taste for you."

[onthewillowsthere]

"I don't mind tart. Tart is like when apples are less sweet, isn't it? It's a fruit word."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Yeah!" Janet says, with surprising enthusiasm. Surprising to her, anyway. "Like lemonade."

[onthewillowsthere]

"I don't mind that. I don't like sour. Like pickles. Or cream cheese."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"We're going to have to have a subcommittee for cheesecake tasting at some point, then. Ready for today's final ice cream, champ?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"I'm ready," seriously.

[sorrowandsorrow]

Obviously, Janet was saving the best for last. With one more clean set of bowls and spoons, she serves each of them a small but respectable portion of dulce de leche ice cream.

[onthewillowsthere]

And -- yes, this is the best ice cream, so well-played. Galahad closes his eyes so he can concentrate on it properly, as he's done all three times before, and tastes. The caramel of the ice cream base is a bit milder than the thick stripe of actual caramel, and those two flavors interplay well; the texture differences are good too. The actual caramel has a slight toastiness to it that give it some extra depth. It's good.

[sorrowandsorrow]

Yep, it absolutely is the best one. Now this is ice cream fit for a queen. Janet licks her spoon when she's done. "Nine," she says.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Nine," Galahad says too, with a little nod.

[sorrowandsorrow]

Why does she feel so triumphant about coming to an ice cream consensus with Galahad? Huh. Janet directs a grin at him. "That'll be tough to beat next time."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Yes," very seriously. "You will have to choose well."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Damn, okay, high expectations." The smile's lingering, though. "Feeling okay?" After the tattoo, she means.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Yes. Thank you. Very well."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Let me know if anything weird happens, but it should heal pretty quick." Because of the, you know, magic.

[onthewillowsthere]

He nods. "Thank you, your majesty."

[sorrowandsorrow]

Because she's not an animal, Janet puts away the ice cream and stacks the bowls and spoons in the sink before she goes. She gives Galahad a little half-salute before she actually splits, and as she walks away, tote bag over her shoulder, she can't totally deny there's the littlest hint of a spring in her step. It's been a while since she put her mind to something, then pulled it off with sheer bloody-minded determination. It feels good.