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Post by Deleted on Jun 21, 2014 5:05:52 GMT -6
'S'not that bad.' "No, it's not that bad. But I want it better," she spoke against her folded arms as the needle began to buzz beside her. Her tattoo had a scraped-off edge from a new scar she'd acquired slipping off a building's edge during a heavy storm and landing sharply onto a bent gutter drain. So, naturally, she had to get part of it redone. Her shirt was off, her bare back exposed as she lied down on her stomach and chest on the flat table.This artist was the initial artist that'd given her the design when she was sixteen. It had served her well.. he'd done plenty of Vincit ink in his career - they had all gotten discounts for him being protected in their territory. It began to scratch against her skin and she took a breath with a tensed jaw. The tribal, black tattoo dedicated to her gang reading; "Vincit Omnia"..
Victory in All Things.She took breaths of annoyance, not a fan of the needle etching through the skin around her lower spine and shoulder blade. Of course she had the urge to flip around and break his wrist - stab the needle into his neck. It was only natural. She held herself at bay and just focused on her breathing. "Fill in any wear-outs too.. My trumps outside'll wait as long as I want them to," she mentioned, moving an arm around to flip her hair away from her back to give him more room.'You got it boss.'It was completely natural for her to walk around with an entourage - as did every higher-up of Vincit.. and most other gangs. Armed, ready, dangerous. Just a handful of select men and women that answered to her call and stood steady at her side or behind her as she went about her normal every-day business. They leaned against the shop's walls or waited in the lobby for her to be finished, talking among themselves and keeping their guns loosely hung over their shoulders. |
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Post by Deleted on Jun 21, 2014 7:45:49 GMT -6
don't look back in anger, I wish you'd say
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Good golly, gosh! This was something, wasn't it? Elliot had asked to see one of Vincit's higher ups, the top dogs as it were. She had been pointed in the direction of a tattoo parlour and that was...that was okay. It was something new. She wasn't much into tattoos herself but some people were, some people were more enduring than she was though. They were more willing to accept pain if it had a purpose, the purpose of a tattoo being that it was a stamp on their identity and of their identity. If it was all the same to those people, Elliot was perfectly content to let her adoration of bright clothing act as one such stamp. No-- ink. Yeah, that was what it was called. No ink for her, she thought and puffed out her chest in delight. Wasn't she tough now? Tough like the older Hanovers, whom Elliot was sure were planning something. Helen was always planning something though, whether she deemed it necessary to share it with Elliot or not was another matter. All the same, she was nothing if not proactive in her job. Today, Elliot was using her initiative and she hoped -- with fingers and toes crossed -- that Helen would be proud of her for it. She was going to meet this woman, this girl, this...whatever she was and she was going to get to know her. And then, then Elliot would see what kind of a person she was. Elliot already had some inclination, a little anxious feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Or stingy, ouchy bees. August worked with mummy and mummy was very good at hurting and breaking things. So perhaps August was like mummy, or maybe she was different in a good and refreshing way? Only time would tell. She arrived at the parlour and it was clear then that she had not been led astray, men with guns were outside. Guns meant someone paranoid, or someone important. Sometimes both, on a particularly curious day. Wearing her most humble smile, her hands wringing together, she approached the door "I...was told I could find August here?" A glance up at one of the 'guards'. She must have looked quite the sight in her misfitting brown boots and her rainbow coloured dress, torn and patched up in several places "I just want to talk to her, honest. Hope to die an' all that." Then, as an afterthought, Elliot added "I'll be good, promise." Just for good measure. memory lane, 418 words
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CLAW of FROM DUST
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Post by Deleted on Jun 22, 2014 0:33:45 GMT -6
The man's hand must've trembled.. flinched or something. The needle had skipped over her skin and went far too deep through the layers, right into a bit of her soft tissue muscle. Immediately, August's entire back flexed - thin but damn toned from all her running and climbing - and she began a low growl in her throat.
"Nnnn-FUCKING HELL. Watch it!" she barked at him. He stumbled over himself, grabbing an antibiotic wipe and running it over her beet-red skin.'I-I'm sorry Miss Chapel- I-' "Just keep going..." she sighed, already having calmed down and shutting her eyes once more to rest against her own folded arms. He took a second to catch his breath and realize that he wasn't going to be stabbed in the throat before starting again, the needle buzzing around her lower shoulder blade and making her entire skeleton vibrate angrily throughout her body.She was finally relaxed a little more when-'Boss.' "Hmn?.." her eyes turned a little without her head, looking towards the door at a man who'd poked himself in to speak. "What."'We've got a Gigas here... says she needs a second--' "Gigas? The fuck, I'm getting inked right now."'She's insisting.' "For shit's sake this had better be about the fucking slums on fire.. fine, let 'er in.."Her eyes stayed locked to the doorway, glaring at her guard as if to say 'you're not invited.. just her'. So he stayed in his place, swallowed at her expression, and held the door open for the Hanover sister with low-casted eyes.
"What do you need Gigas?" she whined lowly a little bit, annoyed with the fact that she was being bugged at a time like this, and lifted a hand to rub her eyes. She looked back over once they were cleared and the slight itches were relieved.. noticing who exactly it was. Well if it wasn't the pretty, creepy, full-grown clown child. "Hanover," she stated in greating. "Huh.. What's goin' on?" Now it was a tad more relaxed.. higher-up to higher-up. |
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Post by Deleted on Jun 22, 2014 4:26:58 GMT -6
don't look back in anger, I wish you'd say
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Elliot jolted in alarm, back straightening up and her eyes widening at the yell from inside of the shop. Her hands clapped over for a few seconds before she realized that there was to be no further outbursts. Oh my, whoever it was had an interesting vocabulary. Had something gone wrong? Must have done. You didn't yell like that over just anything. Elliot's hands slipped back to her side and she raised her shoulders in a sheepish shrug. She was supposed to being tough and strong today. Yeah. She wasn't just some scared kid. No siree, she was a Hanover and Hanovers didn't cower. The man she had addressed poked himself into the building and so Elliot stood patiently, catching snatches of the conversation through the just-open door. She was definitely right then. There was no denial of her assumption and no hand or shove shooing her away. That was good: failures made Elliot's anger bubble right up. All the same, her hands fidgeted with her dress as the door was held open and she slipped inside, smiling briefly at the guard. A thanks was muttered before her attention was drawn to August...Elliot hadn't imagined she would find the woman--shirtless. In her surprise she couldn't help but tactlessly stare, finally managing to avert her gaze to a particularly interesting wall. Elliot had to admit, this August was pretty. In a sort of rugged way that reminded Elliot of Helen. Be cool Elliot. And don't stare. She had to remind herself of that before looking back to August, eyes on the younger woman's face. Younger by a number of years, wasn't she? It was a little funny that such a woman was so important in a gang "Hello." A little smile, because scowling would be no good and little, sly smirks were not for this situation. And Elliot sure could smirk if she had to, having seen enough of the little lip quirks in her life "I just wanted to talk, y'know?" She took a few steps further into the room, hands swinging at her sides "It's important to know people and--we've never met before." Honesty, today. Or at least a version of the truth. They were, in theory, on the same side, right? memory lane, 374 words
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CLAW of FROM DUST
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Post by Deleted on Jun 24, 2014 2:09:10 GMT -6
A stream of solid, red blood began to ease slowly out of the area beneath her shoulder blade that the artist had slid into too deep, slicing through some of the tissue. It was warm against her skin as it spider-webbed down her ribcage and onto the table.. but she didn't mind it. Cleaning could happen later - right now he had to finish the damn thing without screwing up any more.
When the other woman walked in, August's brows rose at her greeting. There was only one reason - ALWAYS - that people came to 'meet'.. or 'talk with' August Chapel.. And here she thought that Gigas might be big enough to clean up messes - but hey. What was having power good for if you didn't get asked to exercize it once in a while? "Who?" she sighed, putting her forhead back down on her arms.
The girl wanted a hit. That was the only explanation. And there was no better person, NONE to get a job done ruthlessly and quickly than to ask the powerful right-hand young woman of Vincit. "When.. where.. and why the hell."
Had the pretty little thing gone into the wrong streets wearing her parade costume? Must've been called some pretty nasty things walking around in a joke like that. August smirked and chuckled to herself a little bit at this, a deep rumble in her stomach as she kept still for the artist to finish up.
'About there, Miss Chapel..' He swallowed in hopes that she wasn't still pissed. Which.. to be honest.. she didn't have the energy for.
"Just get it done well. Got that?"
'Yes ma'am, o-of course ma'am.'"Listen, little Hanover," she rolled her head back around to look at her. "I'm busy tonight.. got some things to clear up and dues to collect. But if you impress me with a decent favor in return, I'll see what I can squeeze in after this appointment."
It was obvious the tattoo artist was not happy with her getting right back to business after her back was so damn raw from the burning ink.. but there was no arguing with her. So he simply kept his mouth shut.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 30, 2014 3:29:29 GMT -6
don't look back in anger, I wish you'd say
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Elliot's fingers smoothed her hair habitually as she continued to peer curiously at August. Though she had been feeling nervous, now that she was into the shop Elliot was calming somewhat. She seemed comfortably with an easy smile on her lips even as she noticed the blood running from August's back. That--that had to hurt and Elliot was glad that it wasn't her getting inked. Pain was generally a bad thing, something to be avoided. She couldn't understand why anyone would willingly go through something involving it. Euch. The very idea made Elliot's skin crawl in revulsion. The question caught her by surprise, her eyes widening and her fingers locking together. Who? Did August think she wanted someone -- Elliot swallowed a lump in her throat -- d-e-a-d. Dead? Oh no! That would be awful of her! Absolutely monstrous. Elliot didn't want anyone dead. Except maybe the people that Helen said were really really bad, but even then Elliot went along with such things hesitantly. "I--I don't want anyone dead, miss!" It was squeaked out, a look of insistence on Elliot's face all of the same "People can be reaaaal mean but that's not to say that I want 'em to die or anythin'--" Elliot took a deep breath to calm herself "I just want to talk." Her intention was restated, though it lacked any force behind it. Elliot was a gentle soul and some days she wondered if, without her siblings around, she would be in way over her head with gang-related issues. She probably was in over her head now. Elliot looked away, glancing at the walls, nodding to herself, and then turning her attention back to August. It was going okay, she hoped. She just had to keep calm "I can try an' help you with somethin' anyway. If you want, though." It would give her a chance to better understand August, yeah. She'd be okay. misunderstandings, 317 words
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CLAW of FROM DUST
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Post by Deleted on Jul 2, 2014 1:09:15 GMT -6
A few more strokes of the needle through her skin, spewing and staining the lower layers with black ink, and the buzzing stopped. The artist cleared his throat and rearranged the tools on his small metal tray that stood beside him as he sat on his little stool while hunched over the woman.
He dipped a small rag into a shallow bowl of water, wiping it over her raw skin. August's teeth clenched and she hissed, but kept still and quiet other than the harsh breath. When the Hanover girl spoke (and she was a 'girl' to August.. standing there like a child..), her train of thought stopped. Even the artist could sense her tense confusion.. and looked between her and the Gigas.
August took a few, quiet moments.. and pressed her palms to the surface of the metal table to set herself up. She grabbed a towel from his tray and wrapped it around her neck - the ends of it hanging over either side of her chest to barely cover her. August turned around, sitting on the table and letting one leg dangle - the other folded and tucked underneath her thigh.
"Wow," was all she could say in response.. both of her eyebrows raised, eyes locking onto the woman that she now saw full-on, her tan stomach and the center of her chest exposed. "Well. Alright then," she looked to the artist and motioned her head to the side. He immediately bowed his head and scurried out. "-let's... talk," one brow stayed up as the other lowered.. a bit baffled at what this was about. Her hands placed at the ends of the table, knuckles curling around the front, and she waited.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 17, 2014 8:55:57 GMT -6
don't look back in anger, I wish you'd say
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Stepping further into the room, Elliot was still sure to leave plenty of room between her and August. Maybe she wouldn't like the suggestion to talk and there would be some kind of slap, some kind of repercussion for being such a stupid child. Elliot hoped not though, she didn't like it when people got mad and she liked it even less when they got angry at her. She tried her best to please others and when they snapped, it felt like all of that had been for nothing. Unless of course, they were a bad person, then they probably deserved whatever was irritating them. August sat up and -- well, that towel was not covering much. Elliot cleared her throat uncomfortably, blushed darkly, and could not look away from the woman agreeing to talk to her. She was pretty, alright. At least, that was the polite way of putting it and Elliot didn't want to be rude. Unless August was someone who liked that? Although Elliot couldn't imagine that she was. Still, judging people on first impressions was a mistake. Elliot was not quite so stupid as some people thought she was and it was their loss if they judged her based on that assumption. Pushing her hands into her dress pockets, Elliot scuffed her boot against the floor "How are you?" That felt strange to be asking such a woman but Elliot felt it the polite thing to begin with. A topic to springboard conversation with August, whom she felt she had very little in common with. @august, blush
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CLAW of FROM DUST
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Post by Deleted on Jul 22, 2014 14:40:25 GMT -6
The hell--? She was just.. staring.. Man, she really was a kid. Some people, holy shit. August made a confused grimace and cocked her head back a little bit before bringing a hand up in front of her and holding out an index finger that pointed up at herself... as if to say 'my eyes are up here'. The fuck, she was covered, had the chick never seen a stomach before? Freak.
"They're called abs," she rolled her eyes and jumped off the table a little before walking around it - the wet ink clear on her bare back - and searched around a metal tool drawer for a moment before pulling out a tank top. She couldn't put it on yet.. her back was way too exposed and raw. August gave a sigh and tossed it over her shoulder for later before rummaging through a few more things in the drawer; her drawer. A few guns, pulling out magazines and re-stocking them with oily, stained bullets. Dirty rags from having cleaned them plenty of times rested in the corner. She lifted one of those as well, cleaning the barrel of a handgun before sticking it, loaded, in the back of her pants.
Never walk around without packing.
How was she?? August let her hand drop angrily on the opened area of the drawer, making the metal cling a little bit as she turned around with an annoyed look. "You've got to be kidding me right now," her eyes peered over to Elliot and her posture slumped. Seriously.. Wait. She wasn't kidding? August rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger. Fine.. Fine.. "...I'm a-okay.." she answered honestly, having calmed down, and walked back towards the table she was lying on earlier. But she ended up walking past it, closer to the shorter girl, and stopped only a couple feet away. There was no other response, no returning question. She just waited for what other surprises the Gigas would throw her way. |
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Post by Deleted on Jul 27, 2014 8:50:26 GMT -6
don't look back in anger, I wish you'd say
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Elliot didn't mean to stare, she simply couldn't help herself. Some people just demanded her attention-- Noelle was one of them. Noelle with her piercings and her sideways smirk. Elliot's most precious spy. This August woman was...ah, who would Elliot kid with such arguments? She was far from shameless and all the same she continued to peer uncomfortably at August. The gesture from the younger woman got her attention though and Elliot's eyes darted to August's face "Right, of course they are." Elliot offered a sheepish, apologetic smile, fingers fidgeting in her sleeves. August turned her back, however, and Elliot was left looking at the fresh ink on her back, the skin showing a red tinge from the recently wiped blood. Elliot's eyes narrowed curiously and she raised her hand to question it, before faltering and lowering it, thinking better of it. It would be more sensible to wait until her other question was addressed, much more sensible. Especially if you were someone who liked to mind the few manners you had picked up from the wreck of a city that Zhadrah was -- and, speaking honestly, it was a wreck. A wreck with scars in neon graffiti, whose water-filled veins the canals ran dirty and disused and whose eyes, the lights which shone through half-broken windows at night, were dim, hidden. Gang marks scored walls. Rodents filled the streets, metaphorically and literally; yet it was home and Elliot wouldn't have wanted to live anywhere else. Elliot's eyes widened at the slam of the drawer before she forced herself to relax again, managing a cheerful smile as August crossed over to her. Ah! August was okay, that was nice to hear, maybe. Elliot didn't really know how her sisters viewed the woman but Elliot didn't have it in her to act out of imagined spite "I'm glad." There was something genuine in her tone, in the way she beamed at August despite the circumstances and quirked her head to the side "Can I um...can I ask you somethin'? What's that tattoo about? The one you jus' got, I mean?"@august, small talk
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CLAW of FROM DUST
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