"Blue could pop nice. Some purplish shading on there, maybe? It's not like I've grilled you on how the colours that are off for you are, but at least that what it wouldn't be a super drastic difference?" To make a new friend who also saw things differently from the rest of the room; kind of funny, kind of refreshing, entirely so what were the odds??? But then came a much easier question to answer, and Sam couldn't keep another smile from crossing her face as she said "Yeah. I do. In general, and in particular. I like tattoos best, for reasons, but I'm enthusiastic about all body art. Some of it's just jaw-droppingly gorgeous. A lot of it is really creative, or even if it's been done a lot, really cool. The variety of methods, and effects, and reasons, and styles, and traditions? There's a lot to unpack, and it's all interesting. Imma go on if you don't stop me, so's you know."
"Blue and yellow show up best. It's not as bad when I'm human-shaped, but those are still my favorite. Plus it's the kiddo's favorite." Saxsice shook her head, gesturing for Sam to go on. "Aw, c'mon, you can go on a bit longer. I never went to college, y’know, I like it when I can learn something new. Makes me feel smart."
"A bit, then." It's not hard to get Sam grinning, but this turn of the conversation has, and it's one of her softest grins yet; adepts are obsessive, as anyone who knows an adept knows, so being encouraged to talk about the ink that keeps her boat afloat is nice. "So there's standard tattoos, and then non-standard tattoos; blacklight, reactive, white-ink, for a few examples. That's what really gels with me, because there's such potential in its application, but I do still appreciate scarification, and bodymod branding, and the different subdermals. I'll risk sounding flippant when I say it's kind of a crapshoot with these bags of bones; I'm all for anything that lets someone express what they've got on the inside, you know? Make it feel like home; that's part of it. Another part of it is 'I'm going to be seen one way or another, so here's what you're gonna see.'"
Saxsice nods, thoughtfully, glancing down at her own arms in thought. "Can't scar either -- everything heals within a coupla hours, maximum. It's some gnarly shit too, 'specially when you got broken bones snappin' back into joint or gashes healin' up like zippers. If that ain't too gory, of course." Then she laughs, a low, rough huff of sound. "Don't I know it -- body's bein' a crapshoot, I mean. Wouldn't have chosen to turn into a giant-ass wolf, if I'd been given the option. It's definitely made life complicated."
"I don't doubt that it's some gnarly shit, but I'm also going to admit I'd be fascinated watching it happen. Not cause I'm some sort of gorecrow, but cause of the contrast. If I'm healing something, on me or anybody else, it's lifting the injury off or smoothing it away. I can't affect damage that runs too deep, though, so like if someone got stabbed, I could get from the surface of the skin to whatever depth---I've never actually measured---but there'd be this sealed pocket-of-damage bleeding internally and all that. But, speaking of all that, if you want some sort of rad-ass scar without an awful accident, I can do that for you, too. It'd itch but not hurt." She'd never had occasion to try, but Sam was still sure. She didn't know it in her bones, or her gut, but nearer the nerve-endings; the way she felt the charges she carried in her unspent ink, potential it seemed she could close her hand on. "I don't doubt that, either. If you want to talk about it, we can talk about it, now, or later. You can text me at midnight, J'm'en calice. What are friends for? I'll answer if I'm awake, but there's a chance you'll get my friendly ghost. If you don't want to talk about it, we can look at shops accepting walk-ins."
Saxsice nods slowly, thoughtfully. "So you can take scars away...and also make them?" Then she hops up, bounding over to the kitchen and rummaging through the drawers before grabbing a pen and a needle. "I mean, I can stick and poke some shit if you really wanna see. No time like the present, yeah?
"Sooo you're some kinda...skinwitch? Skinshaper? I dunno the right lingo for it. And, uh, wanna run it by the kid first. If I'm gonna get something that permanent, it's gonna involve him some kinda way."
"Move 'em around, open 'em back up; I can do a lot, so long as it's pretty superficial. I haven't done much nasty---I'm not inclined, and I've done okay at keeping from being backed into the kind of corner that'd call for it---but I do have a couple of incurably curious friends... and some of it, I just know." Sam turned her palms up and shrugged again, feeling the assurance was more of a courtesy, than anything. Being blunt about the unpleasant things she could do wasn't bragging, or self-abasing, but tossed out as a sort of trust signal; a since you won't take this the wrong way sort of thing. "I wouldn't ask you to do something uncomfortable and annoying like that just so I could see it. Especially while you have me chillin' at your place. That'd be a dick move. I'm supposed to be helping, here. But! I would call myself a skinwitch, yeah. And I totally understand that."
Saxsice huffs out a laugh, already tugging up her pant leg and wiggling her toes. "It ain't uncomfortable, don't stress it. Besides, I owe a friend a stick-n-poke and it's better to practice on etch-a-sketch skin, yeah?" She grins suddenly, amused. "Wonder what's faster, your skinwitchery or my erasable skin? We gotta race someday. How'd you figure out you were, y'know...witchy?"
"Oh, okay then. That makes all the difference." And it did; Sam was once again, visibly content. "When I heal something, most of the time, it looks and it sounds like it should hurt; there's the same sorta shurrrrp noise really bad peeling from a sunburn can make, and it does pull... but it doesn't hurt. Just feels weird. And probably my skinwitchery is faster, cause once I get a grip on a wound it comes off easier than the bandaid over it."
What happened when she did a thing, even when it was a witchy thing--that was easy to explain, so long as the focus was on the what and not the why. What had happened, to her, was harder, and so Sam paused, running her tongue over her teeth for a moment's stall on answering. "You know how I mentioned that one New Year's as the worst holiday I ever had?"
"Bet that's kinda fun, in a weird way. Y'know, when you pick a scab or whatever? Except it doesn't actually hurt or make shit worse." Saxsice unscrews the pen, pulling out the little plastic cartridge filled with ink, then snapping it in half so she can drip the liquid right onto the surface of her coffee table. That can't be even remotely sanitary, but maybe werewolf healing means she can't get any infections?
She dips the tip of the needle into the ink, then glances over at the pause, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I remember. When we were fixin' that little video game cabinet fucker."
“That was kinda, sorta, the how of figuring out the superficiality stuff.” It was a marked change; word after word came out like Sam had burned or bitten her tongue and expected each syllable to hurt. She kept her eyes fixed on the tiny pool of ink Saxsice had created, but continued to answer. “I could see auras before that, but while I was snowblind, auras were the only thing I could see. It seemed like that brought them into focus, but I didn’t care about that because I was living in dread of spending the rest of my life seeing only what nobody else did because what the doctor said didn’t mean shit. I mean, leg’s buggered up because someone didn’t know what they were doing; not a lot of faith left for the next chucklefuck, y’know? Sometime the second morning I had an epiphany piggybacked on a panic attack, or something. I remember crying. But that was also when I realized how much of the world as we know it is only surface stuff.”
Sent from my iPad
On Oct 29, 2023, at 9:19 PM, queenking - DW Comment <dw_null@dreamwidth.org<a>dw_null@dreamwidth.org> wrote:
[queenking: ([neutral] ew no why)] Saxsice King (queenkinghttps://queenking.dreamwidth.org/profile) replied to a comment you left in a Dreamwidth entry "open post"https://queenking.dreamwidth.org/2581.html. The comment they replied to was:
"Oh, okay then. That makes all the difference." And it did; Sam was once again, visibly content. "When I heal something, most of the time, it looks and it sounds like it should hurt; there's the same sorta shurrrrp noise really bad peeling from a sunburn can make, and it does pull... but it doesn't hurt. Just feels weird. And probably my skinwitchery is faster, cause once I get a grip on a wound it comes off easier than the bandaid over it."
What happened when she did a thing, even when it was a witchy thing--that was easy to explain, so long as the focus was on the what and not the why. What had happened, to her, was harder, and so Sam paused, running her tongue over her teeth for a moment's stall on answering. "You know how I mentioned that one New Year's as the worst holiday I ever had?"
The reply was:
"Bet that's kinda fun, in a weird way. Y'know, when you pick a scab or whatever? Except it doesn't actually hurt or make shit worse." Saxsice unscrews the pen, pulling out the little plastic cartridge filled with ink, then snapping it in half so she can drip the liquid right onto the surface of her coffee table. That can't be even remotely sanitary, but maybe werewolf healing means she can't get any infections?
She dips the tip of the needle into the ink, then glances over at the pause, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I remember. When we were fixin' that little video game cabinet fucker."
Reply to this comment by replying to this email. Replies will be formatted using Markdown syntax. Your comment must appear before all other text at the top of the reply email. Do not change the reply-to address. It uses a secret address to identify you. Reset the secret addresshttps://www.dreamwidth.org/manage/emailpost if you've accidentally shared it with anyone else.
Sensing this is a heavy moment, Saxsice keeps carefully tattooing her ankle, making a long, thick line up the side of her leg. When Sam pauses, she glances up, offers a half-smile.
"Sounds like...a lot, all at once. A good realization, but a heavy one."
"It was a lot. Is a lot. I feel like I've cheaped out on you, y'know, trying to pass 'I realized how much of the world as we know it is only surface stuff,' off as event the start of a summary, cause like on one level? That's obvious to everybody, at least everybody who doesn't have x-ray vision or an offshoot, so whoa, I know, shocker. And at the same time, this is exactly the sort of thing where talking about magic is a struggle that makes me feel stupid because none of the words I have work the way I need them to if I'm going to get what it's like across. Gawd." And then, for good measure. "Shit. Fuck. And damn."
It was a lot to say, all out in a rush, but it (was Sam again trusting her mouth to solve a situation by just letting whatever wanted to come out of it come out of it unexamined, unimpeded) worked, pushing through the heavy moment like a woodpecker working through the bark and phloem. That was it; the moment was over, ended, eroded, and Sam set it aside to stand and poke softly at the beginning of Saxsice's rather temporary tattoo. "Anyway,"
"Nah, you haven't," Saxsice says gently, wiggling her toes at the poke. "I appreciate you tellin' me, y'know? I bet it's not easy. I can't even talk about who and what I am, gotta talk around it like it ain't there. Facing shit head-on isn't really my style."
Settling down the needle, Saxsice hugs her knee to her chest, watching the ink for a moment. Before their eyes, it bleeds, scabs over, then smooths out, all within a handful of moments. Then, just as suddenly, the ink starts to weep out of the skin, slow at first, then spraying out like a tube of toothpaste that's been squeezed. Saxsice watches, bemused, then wipes away the last drips of ink, showing her skin as unmarked as it had been before the needle. "There y'go. My party trick."
"Admitting to it is easy, because you're in the mix yourself. We're on pretty level footing, you and me. Explaining it is a bitch. But... thank you; it's good of you to say that." Under other circumstances, Sam would've inflicted a companionable shoulder-check; she just wasn't in a good position relative to Saxsice to do that, though, and would've waited for her to set the needle down regardless. She kept quiet to join the other woman in watching, the anticipation unmistakeable... and the 'party trick' worth the wait, odd enough to make her laugh aloud. "That's cool! But also definitely something I could intervene in."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
finally a good sam tag thank u 8 pm coffee
we doing itttttt
"Sooo you're some kinda...skinwitch? Skinshaper? I dunno the right lingo for it. And, uh, wanna run it by the kid first. If I'm gonna get something that permanent, it's gonna involve him some kinda way."
this friendship cannot lose steam
no subject
no subject
What happened when she did a thing, even when it was a witchy thing--that was easy to explain, so long as the focus was on the what and not the why. What had happened, to her, was harder, and so Sam paused, running her tongue over her teeth for a moment's stall on answering. "You know how I mentioned that one New Year's as the worst holiday I ever had?"
no subject
She dips the tip of the needle into the ink, then glances over at the pause, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I remember. When we were fixin' that little video game cabinet fucker."
no subject
“That was kinda, sorta, the how of figuring out the superficiality stuff.” It was a marked change; word after word came out like Sam had burned or bitten her tongue and expected each syllable to hurt. She kept her eyes fixed on the tiny pool of ink Saxsice had created, but continued to answer. “I could see auras before that, but while I was snowblind, auras were the only thing I could see. It seemed like that brought them into focus, but I didn’t care about that because I was living in dread of spending the rest of my life seeing only what nobody else did because what the doctor said didn’t mean shit. I mean, leg’s buggered up because someone didn’t know what they were doing; not a lot of faith left for the next chucklefuck, y’know? Sometime the second morning I had an epiphany piggybacked on a panic attack, or something. I remember crying. But that was also when I realized how much of the world as we know it is only surface stuff.”
Sent from my iPad
On Oct 29, 2023, at 9:19 PM, queenking - DW Comment <dw_null@dreamwidth.org<a>dw_null@dreamwidth.org> wrote:
[queenking: ([neutral] ew no why)] Saxsice King (queenkinghttps://queenking.dreamwidth.org/profile) replied to a comment you left in a Dreamwidth entry "open post"https://queenking.dreamwidth.org/2581.html. The comment they replied to was: "Oh, okay then. That makes all the difference." And it did; Sam was once again, visibly content. "When I heal something, most of the time, it looks and it sounds like it should hurt; there's the same sorta shurrrrp noise really bad peeling from a sunburn can make, and it does pull... but it doesn't hurt. Just feels weird. And probably my skinwitchery is faster, cause once I get a grip on a wound it comes off easier than the bandaid over it."
What happened when she did a thing, even when it was a witchy thing--that was easy to explain, so long as the focus was on the what and not the why. What had happened, to her, was harder, and so Sam paused, running her tongue over her teeth for a moment's stall on answering. "You know how I mentioned that one New Year's as the worst holiday I ever had?" The reply was: "Bet that's kinda fun, in a weird way. Y'know, when you pick a scab or whatever? Except it doesn't actually hurt or make shit worse." Saxsice unscrews the pen, pulling out the little plastic cartridge filled with ink, then snapping it in half so she can drip the liquid right onto the surface of her coffee table. That can't be even remotely sanitary, but maybe werewolf healing means she can't get any infections?
She dips the tip of the needle into the ink, then glances over at the pause, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I remember. When we were fixin' that little video game cabinet fucker."
From here you can:
Reply to this comment by replying to this email. Replies will be formatted using Markdown syntax. Your comment must appear before all other text at the top of the reply email. Do not change the reply-to address. It uses a secret address to identify you. Reset the secret addresshttps://www.dreamwidth.org/manage/emailpost if you've accidentally shared it with anyone else.
no subject
"Sounds like...a lot, all at once. A good realization, but a heavy one."
no subject
It was a lot to say, all out in a rush, but it (was Sam again trusting her mouth to solve a situation by just letting whatever wanted to come out of it come out of it unexamined, unimpeded) worked, pushing through the heavy moment like a woodpecker working through the bark and phloem. That was it; the moment was over, ended, eroded, and Sam set it aside to stand and poke softly at the beginning of Saxsice's rather temporary tattoo. "Anyway,"
no subject
Settling down the needle, Saxsice hugs her knee to her chest, watching the ink for a moment. Before their eyes, it bleeds, scabs over, then smooths out, all within a handful of moments. Then, just as suddenly, the ink starts to weep out of the skin, slow at first, then spraying out like a tube of toothpaste that's been squeezed. Saxsice watches, bemused, then wipes away the last drips of ink, showing her skin as unmarked as it had been before the needle. "There y'go. My party trick."
no subject