Participants:
| Scene Title | He Did Promise Tahiti |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Ink has meanings, but maybe it gives someone too much insight. |
| Date | February 18, 2019 |
Devi's Workshop, RayTech
Yesterday isn't sitting so well with her, and Elisabeth doesn't like it. The other woman's reaction is scraping against nerves still raw from living every moment waiting for the other shoe to drop. PTSD is a bitch. So, in typical Liz fashion, she's determined to deal with it right up front. The knock on Devi's workroom door has the overtones of 'Open up, it's the police!' She's usually better about not doing that, but determination and the anxiety that's buzzing through her make it harder to not sound like that.
It's not beer — it's too early in the day for that, if you're asking Elisabeth (no one did). So instead she holds up coffee. "Truce?"
The lithe, tattooed frame is propped upon a tall stool, boots hooked into the rungs. Her elbows are on the tilted drawing desk that emits a dull light from within in order to illuminate the thin schematics drawn in complex layers on large rolls of graphed tracing paper. Strange gears and tools are scattered across the pages. Her head in her hands, the jolt with which she lurches up at the knocking might suggest she was startled awake. Then again, the absence of any irises suggest otherwise, swallowed whole into the unnerving black pit of her pupils. Blink blink. The effect is gone and she’s crossing the room, head tilted in curiosity.
The door swings open and Devi’s head remains tipped just so. She purses her lips and a puff of air banishes a few stray wisps of black hair from in front of her face. “Didn’t realize we are at war, but if you’re always so nice to the enemy maybe it’s not so bad.” The dark haired woman grins, accepts the coffee, and pulls open the door, moving back to her desk. Coffee, it’s got caffeine - that’s a drug of some kind. It seems enough to earn the blond entry.
The workspace looks like a bomb went off - gears, tools, half finished gizmos, more worriedly some fully finished ones, and … wait, is that a scorch mark in the corner peeking out behind a tacked up schematic? Perhaps a bomb really did go off in here at some point.
Devi gestures towards another stool nearby and settles in, heels hooked back up so she can rest her forearms on her knees. “What’s on your mind?”
As she enters, Elisabeth quirks a single brow and looks around. Amusement is clear in her expression. "I see some things remain the same no matter whose gizmo shop you step into," she observes mildly.
She walks softly in the room, the new-looking ankle boots soft-soled enough to not make much sound… but it's also in the way she walks. More a prowl. All of her clothes have that nearly new feel to them, from her boots to the jeans she's wearing to the white-and-blue sweater that covers her torso. She doesn't touch any of the items on the bench as she joins Devi there, but she doesn't seem to miss much of anything.
"You tweaked my interest yesterday," Elisabeth replies quietly. "Something bothered you. And given that you're one of Richard's people… I think it prudent to simply check in with you and make sure that we're actually okay." She's nothing if not blunt.
Devi watches over the edge of her mug, dark eyes not one to let go to waste the fine curves of a motorcycle, a man, or a woman - that prowl is not missed. She takes a sip and lowers her hands so that the mug is suspended between the torn holes in the knees of her tightly fitted jeans. Her shirt, oh Aurora would love this, is shades of pink, abstract splashes of color on an equally torn black backdrop of fabric.
“Tweaked your interest, hm?” She runs the tip of her tongue along the edge of her teeth and smirks, but quickly lets the comment devolve into a bemused chuckle and she lifts her chin to let her dark fingernails idly trace the pattern of the Raven inked across the front of her throat.
“Something bothered me?” She seems mostly sincere in the role of being unaware. “We’re good,” she comments in a cool manner of speaking, her husky tones not warmed much by Elisabeth’s coffee bribe. Finally, she elaborates, “As good as we can be when you pop up outta fuck all knows where.” She raises one brow expectantly.
Leaning on her elbows on the worktable with her coffee cup cradled in both hands, Elisabeth purses her lips thoughtfully. "Ah… so it's the fuck-all knows where that bothers you?" she asks mildly. She seems to be considering what to say, and how to say it. "The last mission was a doozy," she finally settles on. "Crazy shit that I can't talk about happened there… and I was presumed dead. I can't tell you where I was or why." She looks at Devi and seems to be giving the other woman the truth. "I didn't disappear on purpose, and I didn't stay away because I wanted to. I never would have allowed my family and friends to grieve the way they did if I'd had any way to stop it. Getting home is the only thing I've worked toward for nearly 7 years." The absolute truth of that statement is crystal clear.
As she toys with her coffee cup, Elisabeth studies Devi's face. "You don't know me… I know you have no reason to trust me," she acknowledges quietly. "But for whatever it's worth, Richard does know the exact circumstances. I'm not fucking around with his feelings." Because looking out for her friend seems to be where Devi's coming from.
Devi watches Elisabeth, remaining stock still as the blond unloads what she’s able. The pain of truth in the other woman’s strikes a painful chord that has the biker shifting restlestlessly on her perch. She lowers her hand from her neck and sighs heavily. “Fuck, man.” She blink down at her mug. “You had to go and play that card - now if I don’t trust ya, it means I don’t trust his judgement.” She pauses briefly and looks up at Elisabeth with a cheshire grin. “His judgment is suspect some times, you gotta admit.” She chuckles, but the sound is quick to fade away in the workroom as Devi leans back precariously on the stool.
“Alright,” she starts in, her tone already begrudging. She finds something else to look at - a gear, hair thin with eight sharp, articulating points. “Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s him, then - Busy Butthead.” Her hand comes up, waving absently at the door. Then she straightens with a realization. “Nah. Maybe it’s not him, maybe it’s this friggin’ place,” She looks around the room for answers, but they don’t give her any and she’s forced to reflect inward. Whatever she finds in there doesn’t register on the outside at first. She’s good at putting up a front in that way.
“Tell me how you met ‘im,” she say. At first it sounds like she’s changing the subject, but there’s a wait to her words, there’s something left unsaid that hinges on Elisabeth’s reply.
She's taken aback by the question. It shows as Elisabeth pulls back slightly with a puzzled furrow of her brow. Uncertain why it matters, she still offers the answer. "I arrested him… I'm the reason he wound up Registered back then." There's a grimace. "Well, not exactly. That was the guy who was partnered with me at the time. I always thought the only people who should be required to register were convicted felons." It's neither here nor there, really.
Giving Devi a curious look, she asks, "Why is it important? How we met, I mean…"
“It’s not. I mean, not right now, but it seems like it might be in the scheme of things.” Devi elaborates by touching her temple gently with the tip of her index finger and pointing it away. It’s an intuitive thing. Or a slowly losing your mind thing. The extended finger turns into a dismissive wave of onyx painted nails.
“Ever good relationship starts with cuffs, I suppose,” she comments by way of assessment, one that seems enough that she is willing to circle back to the topic that really brought Elisabeth here. “I think I’ve been cooped up playing his shadow too long,” she says in her husky way, eyes closed and rubbing at her brows with the back of a tattooed wrist. “Playing at career woman. Looking for all sorts a shit in all the wrong places…”
After a moment she lowers her arm and finally refocuses her dark gaze on Elisabeth. “It ain’t you, it’s me, Domme Doll,” she finally says.
She was taking a swallow of her coffee until that last moment, and the spit-take is well worth the price of admission. With coffee dripping off her hand and the end of her nose to join the puddle on the floor, Elisabeth stares at her. Then she starts laughing. "Jesus Christ," she splutters, shaking coffee off her hand. "I can't believe you just said that. Now I know why you're friends."
Her laughter lightens her expression considerably and as Liz wipes her hand down her face and then on her pants, she shakes her head. She seems unable to come up with a retort!
The husky laughter fills the room, the woman’s tattooed frame rocking back on her rump enough to lift her boots of the rung of the stool. She precariously balance, one hand on her stomach the other holding out her coffee, as Elisabeth mops at her face and drips onto the floor. Any schematics spattered are well worth the loss. “Oh shit, he’s got his hands full with you, then. That reaction…” She looks up at the corners of the room. “I wonder if that’s on camera anywhere, I’ll have to ask him.” She laughs more, and more - yup, no end in sight. “Oh, your face.” She leans to the side. “Blushin’ yet?” She teases.
In point of fact… she is! Much to Elisabeth's chagrin, she can feel the tide of red on her face. "You know, there was a time where I would not have blushed and I would have just fired back with something smart… I turned into someone's mom and wow am I off my game!" She continues to chuckle though. "Damn," she grouses good-naturedly.
As she leans back on the workbench, she just shakes her head and comments, "I love your ink, by the way. I don't think I could wear it the way you and Izzy do." Yes. She's changing the subject!
“Kids, make you soft and tough in ways you never expected.” Devi says in the best offhandish way she can muster - it’s a husky tone that shows she’s trying to do a good thing, but this subject doesn’t need any doors kicked in - coffee or not.
“I dunno Izzy, but if you ever want to make his head spin we can set you up with some nice ink. I still have all the stabby-stabby little needles and machines back at my place.” She nods encouragingly. “But, I think we need to be serving you something stronger than coffee or beer to make that happen.” She grins and leans forward to tap her mug against Elisabeth’s and whatever coffee didn’t turn into a caffeinated spray zone.
Elisabeth laughs, her expression both amused and teasing. "What is it with all of us and our ink?" she asks. Setting her cup down, she glances toward the door. "Don't take this the wrong way —"
Raising her arms over her head, she hauls the back of her sweater up and turns her back toward Devi, then looks at the other woman over her shoulder. The haunted, bloodied angel on one shoulder is balanced against the star-laden raven on the other, Beatles lyrics twined between and around them. The work can only have been done by one person; Xiulan's style is distinctive in its depth of detail and non-fading colors due to the chromakinetic's power.
Devi’s brow and lips tilt up on the left side as Elisabeth turns away and begins to expose skin. “Now I see why he-…” Her smartass remark is cut before it gains to much momentum in her purred, husky way. The biker freezes in place, not daring to blink. The art is astonishing, no doubt - the angel impressive, the line work of the painstaking lyrics on point. None of these are what has affected the woman so, however. After a moment Devi reaches out in her hypnotized like states and brushes her warm fingertips in the gentlest of ways over of the wings of the raven design as though the artist had reached up and cut a piece of the night sky to be stitched onto the blonde’s back.
The ebon-haired woman tips her chin up to the ceiling and mutters, “Dios mio”. With a huffy chuckle she meets the Elisabeth’s over the shoulder gaze and her smirk pulls up on the right side instead. “The Raven has your back, Dee-Dee.” She pulls her fingertips away, curling them on at a time while shaking her head in a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “So I do, too…” she promises.
The light touch would have kept her in place to allow Devi to look her full, but the reverence surprises her a little. Elisabeth doesn't move until the other woman pulls away, dropping her sweater back down over the canvas of her back and turning back around. "It …"
She pauses, searching for words that she's given no one else. "It carried my wishes home when I couldn't find my way." As if a little uncomfortable at giving such a glimpse of her self, she moves to pick up her coffee cup and doesn't quite look at Devi for a long moment. "The artist rather spoiled me for doing ink the usual way," she adds in a lighter tone.
The raven-haired biker nods once. “Just remember, you’re the one that carried your ass home,” Devi comments by way of encouragement. The way she distracts herself by wiping a few smudgy blotches of projectiled coffee off the desk and paperwork suggest she’s considerate enough to give Elisabeth a moment’s space in a most revealing moment, or that she’s equally disquieted by the touchy moment.
As for the artwork, “It can see why. It’s impeccable and special,” she nods and makes a small gesture up to the onyx stars framing her brows. “My brother did these, got some gift with illusion or some shit. Keeps us connected.” She shrugs. Give and take - Devi doesn’t generally talk about her brother with just anyone.
Letting out a slow breath, Elisabeth smiles. "I love the stars," she admits. "I think ink should have meaning — if you're going to put something permanent on your skin, it has power. Like naming something." She shrugs a bit, blue eyes getting a faraway look for a moment that she then shakes off. "Xiu did the angel for just before Humanis First held me for a few days. When I survived it, I asked her to bloody the angel… she's my reminder. Guardians don't have the luxury of quitting." A faint smile plays about her lips, and she admits, "But taking a break is acceptable. Hence the lyrics."
Devi chuckles. “A break, huh?” She flips her hair back, brushing at the few wisps that eagerly toy at the previously mentioned stars ink around her brow, eye, and cheek. “Well, have you - taken a break?” She gestures over Elisabeth’s person. “You’re down here with me, and while for most that could be a good time, we both know that’s not what you came down here for. Maybe you, Toots, and Spy Kid need a real vacation… “
"Hmmm…." Elisabeth gets a wicked twinkle. "Well… he did promise me Tahiti… Is is still there, or did they nuke it while I was away?"