Title Reference

The Inkwell
11:30PM

Laney took a drag and pulled her hand away, laughing. She waved in the general direction of a place across the street, all tidy and bright, where men were lined up outside in ugly, dated suits. Her fingers took their merry time, and then made a highly demonstrative hand gesture, still holding the cigarette, whose lazy smoke wound and evaporated. Her other arm was slung around Gigi’s shoulder, ushering the girl along in a loitering, sauntery, tipsy-but-cocksure walk. “You're going to love Dietrich...” she announced in a conspirator’s confident un-murmur, grin turned toward the younger girl’s ear. Beneath her choppy bangs, a single dimple could be seen in one otherwise sharp cheek. She pulled her arm back from the girl’s shoulder, and looped it instead through her companion’s arm. They took a sudden turn into Knockturn, Laney leading her friend into the narrower, cove-like street.

They’d spent all afternoon and a good part of the night lounging about her place, drinking and listening to music and talking about everything that had gone on in the past year. They had tried to make a little feast, and had it ended with Laney ordering chips and curry, and realizing the downside to disabling smoke detection charms. Laney wondered if she couldn’t talk Frank into to coming over the next morning and making them breakfast. Werewolf waffles. She would tip the delivery boy and keep him.

They reached The Inkwell a few minutes later. Laney stamped out the cigarette and pulled open the door, spilling into the shop with Gigi and the scent of smoke and summer nights.

She leaned across a counter, offering a nod to the girl working the front desk, but staring quickly past her. She spotted the mass of blond and tattooed muscle whose brainchild was The Inkwell. “Can you fit two in tonight?” She asked him, grinning. “My friend has never had a tattoo.” She tilted her head in Gigi's direction, impish smirk subtle but evident in parted lips.

Georgiana was at a crossroads, or so it seemed. In her mind two ideas argued for supremacy and both were completely true, which wasn't helping. One, despite the fact he'd gotten one himself, getting a tattoo would make her brother see red. Two, tattoos were amazing, and she'd wanted one ever since she'd first seen them.

Of course, idea 1.5 was that pissing her brother off was the entire point of why she dressed the way she did - or rather why it made her feel better about herself. The fact Tapendra had seemingly given up trying to stop her wearing it during the summers was a complete victory. And it meant a tattoo would only help that situation, not harm it.

The alcohol was not helping - or, rather, it was. Which was why she was currently in awe of Laney's genius and in awe of Laney's tattoos and completely on board with this idea. "It doesn't hurt that much, right?" She asked, less out of a fear of the pain and more out of not wanting the design messed up.

She had a sketch. In her hurry, it'd been an obvious choice for a tattoo. After all, it wasn't like people would get it.

Georgiana immediately wandered away from Laney when they entered the shop, heading to the wall of designs. It wasn't like she was going to get a premade - she wasn't that unoriginal - but it was a good idea to see what the artist's work looked like, right?

The evening was set, once the last customer left. Lana kept herself occupied with the appointment book and a tall stack of tarot cards at the front counter, where a pair of fragrant candles burned brightly in the slightly dimmed space.  Lavender. Both of the assistants had disappeared for the night. A wireless had been left on in the basement downstairs and could be heard, faintly, playing wordless piano tunes. Something you'd expect to hear in a Salon.

Satisfied that there would be nothing else for him to do, Dietrich sat at the back of his parlour at one of the tables, kept company by a tall bottle of firewhisky and a scotch glass still with a dram of liquor in it. His elbow rested on an armrest, hand propping up his head of dishevelled blonde hair while a large wolf spider crawled up and down his forearm.

 It was the only mark he had that customers saw-- staring back at them with red, multi-faceted eyes. A rolled up joint rested in the wizard's other hand, unlit. He seemed to  be staring at it contemplatively when The Inkwell's front door creaked open and the cool night air drifted in, ushered by a thick whiff of cigarettes.

Blue eyes shot up curiously. Customers, he figured but then recognized the slender figure ambling into his shop. Just Laney. A younger woman came in right behind the Seeker, a vaguely exotic looking creature with thick black hair. More of a girl than a woman, come to think of it. Dietrich smiled and tucked the joint behind his ear as Laney met against the counter. Lana went back to being absorbed by her cards once it was clear she didn't have any work to do.

"Can you fit two in tonight? My friend has never had a tattoo.” "

The friend was wandering off to the wall where they'd recently framed some of the parlour's popular designs. A sporadic mixture of his more macabre art and some generic symbols. Dietrich glanced at her quickly and then back to the counter: "For you?" he hauled himself to his feet, "Sure thing. Tenderfoots welcomed, y'know that." Sometimes it felt like tenderfoots were all he ever got around here.

Quickly downing the last bit of his firewhisky, he slammed the glass down and headed over to the counter, "What're you two looking for tonight?"

"It doesn't hurt that much, right?"

“Mmm. No. It tickles,” Laney promised, cheeky grin reassuring (or not). Besides, a couple of sips-- or more than a couple-- would ease the process. They were already halfway there. For Laney, who had been inked for a few years now, it was strangely enjoyable.

While Gigi wandered to the wall to peruse Dietrich’s work, Laney poked around his girlfriend-slash-appointment-girl and the calming scent of lavender to appeal to the tattooist himself... though it seemed to take little soliciting. They’d become fast friends, sharing an interest in wholesome hobbies like drinking, inking, and mingling with the shady folks of Diagon Alley’s favorite enclave, her dodgy sister Knockturn.

Laney tapped a finger idly to the piano notes drifting up the stairs. It was comforting, almost unconsciously so.

When he came their way, her smile widened, eyes finding the spider that crawled his arm. Even a little tipsy, Laney had no trouble. It was eye-catching to any eye, and perhaps especially to a Seeker’s. Something one was never quite allowed to catch.

"For you? Sure thing. Tenderfoots welcomed, y'know that. What're you two looking for tonight?"

Laney nodded, eyes moving from the spider, to his face, to the glass of firewhiskey. She stood up properly, feeling cheered by the familiarity of it all.

“You’ll have to ask Gigi.” She grinned. “I want a magpie. Long overdue.”

Fingers of her wand hand tugged at an empty belt loop. She turned to Georgiana. “This is Dietrich. He’s a massive softie,” she lied plainly. What with the whiskey glasses and tattoo gun and lethal looking spider crawling about his massive arm. He was practically a holiday card. Of course, Laney didn’t mean it (but she sort of did), and Dietrich would probably know as much. “Dietrich, Georgiana.”

Somehow, Laney's giggling wasn't exactly reassuring on its own. Gigi was, luckily, capable of using sheer stubbornness as a shield; and so, with a slight set of her jaw and a toss of her dark hair, she was set. She was not going to find this painful. Even if it was, she could take it. She was not going to wuss out like...a wuss.

Especially if Tapendra could handle it with how much of a wuss he was. How pathetic would that be, if she couldn't handle it and he was able to? She'd heard him squeal over oil hitting him in the face while cooking.

She looked at Laney as the artist himself appeared - but, of course, her eyes couldn't stay off Dietrich for long. All of the a sudden, the urge to get the tattoo somewhere interesting rose, but that wouldn't be...well. She'd make herself number before needles got shoved in tender spots.

"What happens if you switch teams, though?" she asked Laney, jokingly. "You'll have to have him make the bird getting eaten by something." Unless she joined the Cannons, of course. Though from what Gigi'd heard the only thing worth getting a tattoo of from that team was Carter.

Hm, a full-back tattoo of George Carter. Tempting. But she needed to wait a few years for that. (Besides, Carter seemed more of a tramp stamp than a full mosaic)

She smirked at Dietrish, though, when Laney commented; the spider, the store, the location and the firewhiskey (and the alcohol she'd already consumed, of course) somehow made her doubt that. But she wasn't one for softies, anyway. "Nice to meet you," she said. "You take custom designs, right?"

Having given the young'un a once over already, Dietrich nodded once in her direction as Laney introduced them. Tipsy as she was, he detected an aura of resolution. A substantial, headstrong quality. Not a runner. 'Course, he'd never accuse the Seeker of befriending the running type.

Massive softie, the wizard snorted derisively at the remark. He was one of the friendlier ones on the alley, no doubting it, but he could appreciate the jab. Georgiana wasn't even phased. "Nice to meet you," she greeted before he replied in kind. Then, atypical for a kid, she went straight to the point: "You take custom designs, right?"

They'd have a helluva time making end's meet at the Inkwell if they didn't.

Dietrich leaned forward across the counter, folding his arms across it as his countenance creased into an earnest look: "Normally, yeah. We copy 'em on to the skin with some tracing sheets and then needle it..." his hand went unconsciously to stroke the spider scuttling slowly around his forearm: "Provided the design ain't too complicated, it shouldn't take any longer than using one of our own."

Tenderfoots rarely chose complex work, thank the Gods. He looked over to Laney at this point and with a quick smile, jerked his head towards the parlour's display of designs: "Y'got a particular magpie in mind or do I just sketch out the usual for your team?"

It wasn't unusual for people to come in asking for a mark of their favourite team. He did his fair share of mascots and crests, almost as often as he did house signs or skulls. Didn't get many visionaries around Knockturn.

"What happens if you switch teams, though?"

The double entendre wasn’t lost on Laney, even if Georgiana had meant quidditch teams. She shrugged. “I trade the direwolf for a werelady.” Dimple appearing in her cheek, her mouth became a brazen, lazy grin. Gigi had a point-- an amusing one, and Laney usually laughed at the Tattoo Mistake Hall of Famers-- but Dietrich was skilled, and what was done could be undone. And Laney was a tipsy, overconfident nineteen-year-old. “He can charm it off,” she explained. But Laney had so far never done such a thing; what she had she had for life... albeit, more than one had been considerably modified.

Or, as Gigi had suggested, her next mascot could eat the magpie. But she would always have a fondness for the black and white, raucous thing.

While the pair acquainted themselves and discussed the prospects of Gigi’s own tattoo-- the inking and end results of which Laney was curious to see-- the seeker glanced over the wall of designs, the quiet parlor, the recently-vacated desk. Her eyes landed on the candles, their flames swaying somewhat more pronounced than they might have if Laney had been entirely sober. It was a comfortable feeling, not a dizzy one. Like waves.

“Yeah,” she said, peeling her eyes away to land on the spider, and then Dietrich’s face again. She hooked her fingers into a tight pocket and withdrew her hand again to hold up a folded slip. She hadn’t meant to bring it along, but luck was with her. She handed it to him with her cigarette fingers, a simple, penciled magpie, outline and brief detail, moving just so in the middle where it stood. Laney hadn’t drawn it herself, but she had pocketed it fast enough, fond of it.

She looked back to Gigi, raising a brow. Usually, when she came on a whim, it was alone. Otherwise, she had an appointment. But there was something slightly brilliant about dragging someone else along-- or having a handful of drinks and convincing one another it was a fine evening for new tattoos.

Georgiana nodded as he explained the process, reaching into her pocket. Her clothing wasn't much good for transporting much of anything, but it was, thankfully, good for keeping paper uncrinkled. Mostly due to how tight it was. She wasn't considering complexity in the design, having decided that she could take it. She'd let sheer stubborn force of will be her painkillers, dammit.

"Yeah, well. I wanted this," she said. There was a moments' hesitation - maybe that was normal, but it did feel odd to hand over the design. But he was a professional. He couldn't judge her on her choices...out loud, anyway. He probably didn't even know what the design was of. Which was a good thing.

She looked at the design one last time before thrusting the paper forward stubbornly. "And um," she added, watching the spider on his arm. "You can make these things...move, right? Like your spider. How long does that take?"

Of course, one thing that wasn't crossing her mind - blame the alcohol and the fact she was 16 - was price. She had money, yes - crumpled up in her wallet, and a mix of wizarding and muggle money. It wasn't likely to be enough, though - it was enough to get her home, if she had to take the train, but still...

Laney's design was easy enough. Dietrich held the sheet in one hand and then placed it down onto the counter, flattening the sketch down to take a better look at the magpie. He could be done with hers quickly. The method of it percolated through his head; ink shades, the right needles, necessity of a cooling spell (pointless for an oldhand like the Seeker).

And when he looked up, the other witch was ready with her own sheet-- it was passed to him with the air of one handing over a material secret. He frowned fleetingly and glanced down at the paper, only to immediately find himself forcing down a pair of raised eyebrows.  Wasn't his place to comment on his customer's choice, much as they didn't make sense to him. The tug at a corner of his lips was, on the other hand, inevitable. The girl's eyes were fortunately on his own mark and not his face. "And um. You can make these things...move, right? Like your spider. How long does that take?" she asked.

He followed her gaze down to the wolf spider on his arm and his smile slackened, displaying a surprisingly genial row of teeth. The spider scuttled away in the other direction of his forearm, as though aware of their stares. "Yeah, I can make your gal move if that's what you mean," Dietrich put down the sketch next to Laney's and tapped it: "It ain't doing anything here so I'll need some traits. Qualities, y'know... fast, slow, flirty, whatever you want."

Hell, he could make her do cartwheels if that's what she needed. Georgianna's choice in design didn't exactly scream subtle. The wizard straightened himself up from the counter as he spoke: "Shouldn't be more than two or so hours, even with the enchantment to make her fluid," he glanced from Laney and then back to the younger of them: "Which you two would be going first then?"

Lana, on the other end of the counter, looked up from her cards for a second before opening the ledger to jot down some notes from what she'd heard of their exchange. The receptionist kept a careful record of their customers; details and everything.

Laney peaked at the design, assuming it was just some animated woman Gigi had come up with herself, and not an alternative to a muggle cultural icon. She was down with tattooed women... being tattooed onto a woman. She grinned and leaned into the counter, frisking hair from her eyes. And if she had seen the design earlier that evening, it was still fresh and interesting, not least of all because they’d had a few drinks since then.

The seeker’s brows rose a little humorously into her messy fringe-- something Dietrich was apparently trying not to do-- as the younger girl mentioned moving ink. Laney’s own proposed design, the simple outline of a magpie, was moving mildly in place, calm as an ocean wave... but likely to menace anyone who bothered her. Still, it would be easy as sin for the artist, no doubt, particularly compared with her friend’s design. Gigi’s little lady with the bow and sleeve of ink was perfectly still, and Laney wondered for a moment what the brassy-looking broad would do if it were magicked to move. She’d heard, once or twice, of tattoos talking, telling people off like portraits, but she had actually never seen one.

“You go first,” Laney announced, reaching into her own pocket for pack of cigarettes. She tapped one our and lifted it to her ear, tucking it there. She would have a smoke break between their turns, but she wanted to initiate Georgiana. What were friends for? (Besides, it was best not to give her time to rethink her first tattoo. Thinking too hard about it could be as disastrous as not thinking enough about it... and if that were the case, well, Laney thought the their plan was brilliant.)

Laney put Georgiana forward first. Well, that suited her fine. Georgiana was...she didn't want to admit it, but now that the moment was there, she was nervous. She was sure wizard tattoos weren't - didn't involve injecting ink with needles or anything like that. So there was no point in wigging herself out before she knew if it was going to be horrendously painful.

No. She wasn't going to wuss out. Not in front of a good looking man like Dietrich and definitely not in front of Laney. If Laney could do this, so could she!

Damn. She could really use another beer.

"Sorry," she said, realizing she'd stood there silently for a long moment. "I'm ready. Where do you need me?" As she asked she pulled out her pigtails and loosely bunned her long hair to keep it out of the way.

She stood on tiptoe, trying to see into the back of the shop.

Tenderfoots first, tonight. Dietrich flashed Laney a crooked smile as she pushed her little friend into first position; probably with good reason. He nodded once and slipped the joint from his ear, lighting it as Georgianna... well, she wasn't really doing anything. Thinking, maybe. Kid coulda used a couple more shots in her.

"Sorry," she apologized after a few seconds and the wizard raised an eyebrow at her, drawing the reefer away from his lips in a trail of smoke. "I'm ready. Where do you need me?"

Dietrich indicated towards the stairwell just around the counter-- it led ominously into the unlit basement, where the wireless was still playing. A mellow, saxophone drifted up towards them. "The studios are all underground."  He stuck the lit joint back behind his ear and pushed himself off the counter: "C'mon. We'll get ya sorted." 

Having picked up the sketches, Dietrich gave Georgianna another look-over to make sure she was walking straight and then turned to move towards the stairs. He'd had enough of drunken witches falling down those steps. "Where will you be wanting this?" his hand ran smoothly along the wooden banister as they descended: "Your arm, your back?" He glanced behind once he'd stepped onto the lower landing, just outside the Olive Room.

"We'll do 'em just about anywhere," a good humoured glimmer entered his eye: "But virgins tend stick to those two."

Gigi seemed to be grinning and baring it, in her own way. Laney nodded inwardly. If it had been another girl, someone less willing to get acquainted with the needle, to be permanently inked, she  would probably be rolling her eyes. Hard. And intimidatingly. Not that Laney cared too much about what others did (even if she was simultaneously full of opinions); but her friends were her friends for a reason.

She picked them wisely.

She shared a grin with Dietrich, wondering if he’d be willing to share anything else, namely that blunt he’d been about to tuck into when they arrived. And was now lighting. What a tease.

She followed down the stairs, inhaling the sweet, secondhand scent that the bearlike tattooist left as they descended. Her lips parted, teeth delighting at the word virgin, so much so that the dimple in Laney’s cheek made an appearance. The virgin Georgiana. It was somehow more hilarious with a reasonable amount of alcohol in the blood stream and the relaxing fragrance of weed and incense. And her own perfume of cigarettes, though Laney was so immune that it was usually unconscious, if appetizing.

She slipped onto a stool beside the seat reserved for the soon-to-be-tattooed. “Going to share?” She asked Dietrich in her most charming (also slightly tipsy, definitely casually confident) voice. She lingered near Gigi as it began, but offered to retreat the corner as things progressed. Before sitting down again, she sauntered around, dragging her fingers over counter space. Finally, she  sat down, summoned a magazine, and began flicking through.

Georgiana glowered a bit at the 'virgin' comment as she made her way down the stairs. They felt a little wobbly, maybe, well, she was old enough to be buzzed if she wanted to. Tappy just couldn't get over the fact that she wasn't twelve anymore. "On the back, give this girl room to move."

She smirked a little as she looked back at Dietrich. Yeah, after this, they could celebrate with more drinks. Could tattoos get drunk? She'd have to request that. "I'll save the ass and chest for the second date." Getting that forsaken symbol on her chest, that, yeah, sounding pretty good.

On some level she was aware that her thoughts weren't quite straight-and saying she had a chest was a bit of an exaggeration. But this was going to be awesome. Her very own tattoo.

Which she'd tell her brother about after she'd wrested control of her WoW account.  She was drunk, not stupid. "Where to now? Want to see her dance." Better to think about that than whatever wizards used instead of needles. Wands, maybe? The symbolism of that made her giggle a little to herself as she looked around.

Dance, right. Dietrich figured he'd rethink givin' the kid anything more to drink after. See how she took the needle- coupla weeks back, they got a young fella who threw up his insides when he was done. Had t'start keepin' a fucking bucket in every room.

"Just drop yerself into our needlin' seat--" the wizard thumbed at the leather barber's chair. "An' lose the top while I get some inks prepped."

He winked at Laney, handing her his joint as he walked over to the side-counter. "All yours," a thread of gillyweed trailed away. "Better I work clean t'night." Or 'bout as clean as a man can be with half a bottle of whiskey in him. While Georgianna took her seat, Dietrich flattened out the drawin' she'd given him and started to take out the ink vials.

"That should 'bout do it..." he turned once the vials had been slotted into the machine. "Ready for this? I'll walk ya through it. First, we're gonna draw out the design on to yer back. Once we're happy with that, I'll numb the skin a li'l bit and we'll get started on the needling. Won't take long," a quick reassuring smile. "I'll tell ya 'bout the aftercare when we're done here. Questions?"