08-21-2014, 08:53 AM
Lucas was cleaning up his gun after the last customer. Marco had just left with his sleeve complete. It was a pretty complicated piece and was really cool to see done. There didn't seem to be much of a story to go with it, but that was ok. Not everything had to be big and dramatic. He loved the work for the sake of the work, the beautiful lines and colors, the shading and patterns. Skin was such a unique canvas to work on, so different than paper or anything like that. It had a 'grain' to it, and he'd had to learn to work with that. There were times when it resisted him and he had to find a way to coax the ink to do what he wanted, to show the proper color or shade. Other times, it was if the skin was hungry for the image, as if it had grown specifically to take this art work; the body had already made place for the image that he was putting there. And it flowed.
And of course there was the fact that this was relatively permanent. Treatments existed, of course, that could remove them fairly easily without scarring. And inks now were made in such a way as to be broken down with little residue. But generally people who got tattoos viewed them as a permanent marker on their body.
The shop was quiet. He'd shut the music off earlier. He often didn't even hear it while he worked anyway, but the customers liked it. Sergei was off today so it was just Lucas minding things. The evening was just beginning though it was already dark out. He'd soon see new customers come in. But for now, it was a nice peaceful bit of down time. He'd closed for lunch and done his AA meeting then. It had helped center him. It had been a few days and he needed the refocusing. He felt calm and cleansed now. He was always on guard, always on the watch for any kind of trigger that could set him off, send him running to hide in drugs. The meetings helped him keep up his resolve.
People spoke of trusting their heart and the idea made him laugh. His heart- as he suspected most peoples'- was the spy in his midst, the traitor in his chest. It would do anything, given the chance, to satisfy its craving- steal, hurt, whore him out, betray anyone- and then once satiated, it would leave him to deal with the aftermath; the guilt and shame and sadness and depression. No, he did not trust his heart. He ruled it; he guarded it and made sure that he remained in control of it at all times. He needed his AA meetings to help him do that. So today, this evening, he was at peace.
His wallet buzzed and he glanced over at it. The ID said was Aria. He smiled. He'd hoped she'd call him. Working with her on her piece had been a long process, since she'd had to break it up over a long period of time. She was so careful with him, so afraid that she'd...he wasn't sure what, exactly. He knew she could make him feel it. She said hurt him and he guessed she meant send him pain. And she was afraid of that. She was afraid she'd like that. She also knew the traitor within her own body, the darkness that pulled at her. It was somewhat disconcerting to realize the struggle she had with this, as it was so very alien to him in a certain way. More than disconcerting, really.
At the same time, he felt that he, more than most, understood the pull of that hunger- whatever it was- to take you in a dark direction regardless of the consequences to you or others. And despite having known her for such a short period of time, he felt somehow responsible to her. Her struggle was like his. It was for her very soul. But with her abilities, the consequences of falling would be so much worse- for her and others. He couldn't just let her fight on her own. He had gotten help. She needed it from someone who understood the seductive call of the heart when it just wanted to do what it wanted, craved what it craved, hungered for what it thought it needed, heedless of the pain and suffering it would cause.
He had fought and won the initial battles so far, though the war would always be there, always in effect. She needed help to win too, to get the mastery of herself. And so he would be there for her, to help her through this.
He answered his wallet. "Hi Aria. I'm glad you called. What's up?"
And of course there was the fact that this was relatively permanent. Treatments existed, of course, that could remove them fairly easily without scarring. And inks now were made in such a way as to be broken down with little residue. But generally people who got tattoos viewed them as a permanent marker on their body.
The shop was quiet. He'd shut the music off earlier. He often didn't even hear it while he worked anyway, but the customers liked it. Sergei was off today so it was just Lucas minding things. The evening was just beginning though it was already dark out. He'd soon see new customers come in. But for now, it was a nice peaceful bit of down time. He'd closed for lunch and done his AA meeting then. It had helped center him. It had been a few days and he needed the refocusing. He felt calm and cleansed now. He was always on guard, always on the watch for any kind of trigger that could set him off, send him running to hide in drugs. The meetings helped him keep up his resolve.
People spoke of trusting their heart and the idea made him laugh. His heart- as he suspected most peoples'- was the spy in his midst, the traitor in his chest. It would do anything, given the chance, to satisfy its craving- steal, hurt, whore him out, betray anyone- and then once satiated, it would leave him to deal with the aftermath; the guilt and shame and sadness and depression. No, he did not trust his heart. He ruled it; he guarded it and made sure that he remained in control of it at all times. He needed his AA meetings to help him do that. So today, this evening, he was at peace.
His wallet buzzed and he glanced over at it. The ID said was Aria. He smiled. He'd hoped she'd call him. Working with her on her piece had been a long process, since she'd had to break it up over a long period of time. She was so careful with him, so afraid that she'd...he wasn't sure what, exactly. He knew she could make him feel it. She said hurt him and he guessed she meant send him pain. And she was afraid of that. She was afraid she'd like that. She also knew the traitor within her own body, the darkness that pulled at her. It was somewhat disconcerting to realize the struggle she had with this, as it was so very alien to him in a certain way. More than disconcerting, really.
At the same time, he felt that he, more than most, understood the pull of that hunger- whatever it was- to take you in a dark direction regardless of the consequences to you or others. And despite having known her for such a short period of time, he felt somehow responsible to her. Her struggle was like his. It was for her very soul. But with her abilities, the consequences of falling would be so much worse- for her and others. He couldn't just let her fight on her own. He had gotten help. She needed it from someone who understood the seductive call of the heart when it just wanted to do what it wanted, craved what it craved, hungered for what it thought it needed, heedless of the pain and suffering it would cause.
He had fought and won the initial battles so far, though the war would always be there, always in effect. She needed help to win too, to get the mastery of herself. And so he would be there for her, to help her through this.
He answered his wallet. "Hi Aria. I'm glad you called. What's up?"