PHD 285: Inked
PHD 285: Inked
Summary: Eddie petitions Vega for a tattoo.
Date: PHD 285 (1/28/2010)
Related Logs: None.

Pilots' Berthing

Eddie looks up as she hears someone else plod into the commons, and she gives Vega a little chin up nod of greeting. "Punchout." Eddie eyes the bag with anticipation, a little smirk curling up at the corner of her mouth. "This is going to become a nasty little habit…" It's said mostly beneath her breath, but the jist of it is easy to catch. She flips open the magazine to a slight bulge that was keeping the papers apart, revealing a candy bar. A full sized, fully intact piece of chocolatey heaven. "This work as payment?"

"Mooner." Vega's reply is soft. She smiles a crooked little smile, and reaches up to ruffle her hair back out of her eyes. "Yes. Put it away before we must fight off Caveman or Booster." She gestures with her hand in a 'down low' gesture, then laughs softly, and plunks the duffle on the couch. She moves to arrange a few things, and a pillow she tossed out before, so she can sit on the side and also prop her leg up. There's a small wince when she starts to settle in. "Tell me what and where?"

Eddie flips the magazine closed and tosses it onto a bare square of cushion. It's something boring, like 'Fly Fisherman Monthly' so it's not likely to be picked up anytime soon. Not when there's someone's discarded nudie magazine sitting on the table at least. "There's a squadron patch on my left shoulder, I want it below that. In columns, if you have to." Eddie shifts her weight, rocking to one side so she can fish a crumpled paper out of her pocket. "We're also going to have to leave room for more. The list isn't going to get any shorter." She shakes the paper open with one hand so it unfolds, and on it are a list of airwing members who have been KIA. Of course Hale and Yuuri are among the names. "I already triple checked the spelling. So no offense, but if you could do the same before you permanently stick it? I don't want typos." A grin lightens the statement. "Mind if I drink, or…?"

"Drink, sure, just not too much. Will make you bleed more." Vega's sentences are brief. She considers the list, then reaches over to take it. "This is good." She nods her finger passing down the page. "You want script?" She reaches into the duffle, and pulls out a small book of hand drawn samples of lettering in various styles, then passes that over to Eddie. "If you don't mind my smoke, I don't mind your alcohol."

"Of course not. I'll likely spark up too." In fact, Eddie pulls out a pack of smokes in preparation so she doesn't have to move during inking. She bends her head over the offered little book and scans the various types and finally points to one that suits her taste, a cursive script without a lot of flowery detail. "That's what I had in mind. Fancier set up then my last guy. If you didn't provide a picture of what you wanted, you were going to get a cartoon duck. No matter what." Without ceremony, Eddie starts peeling off her layers of tank tops and sports bra right there. But at least she clamps it to her chest when she's done, for some modesty.

There's a chuckle from Vega at the mention of cartoon ducks. "There is no duck quota here." Reassuring, yes? "Would you like all black, or black fading to grey in the middle? Midline red also looks good. Depends on what look you wish to have." Vega tips her head slightly to study Eddie's arm, then reaches for her kit to pull out some pre packaged wipes. "Have a seat. I will draw." She nods to the couch. "As close as you can."

Eddie scoots over closer to Vega, settling down next to the woman and presenting her back. She leans over her lap slightly, the make the skin a taut canvas. "I think just keeping it black in a simple line like writing is best. I don't want it to get too clogged up as time goes on. I want Abraham's name on top, though." The flask gets cracked open, a gulp taken from the still swill inside. It's not like she's a stranger to pain. The scars on her arms and abdomen will attest to that, maybe she's just trying to mellow herself out enough to sit still for as long as this is going to take.

"This is a simple design. I'll draw it out and you let me know." Vega replies, with a little puff of smoke from her lips. She picks up a thin, reddish looking crayon. It almost looks like a filler for a ballpoint pen, but with a softer tip. "I did not know him much." She refers to Hale, of course. She begins to draw, the path of the pencil of color only slightly odd against the skin.

"There wasn't time. There's never enough time to get to know anymore, that's just the way of things. You pass each other in the Head, or fly on their wing for a few weeks or months, and then everything changes again. I didn't know Sito either, but hell. I avoided her like the plague. But that doesn't make me a bad person." No, she's probably 'bad' for a whole list of other reasons. "How long you been doing this?" Mooner makes small talk as she watches Vega work on the sample.

Vega is quiet for but a moment, as she lays down the groundwork for the design, a trail of letters soon to be sliding across the pilot's skin. "… I began to tattoo seriously in college, because I needed to pay tuition." She finishes the general layout, then goes back in with a darker color to refine the letters, and add some hints of flourish. The paper crinkles as she puts it down nearby, tucked against her thigh. "Sito… was a very tempestuous woman. Good in the air, kept many pilots alive past their expiration date. Just hard on those who started to crack."

Eddie gives a little nod to the drawing, then twists again to make sure her back is presented at the right angle. Of course, this'll be her third session of tattoos she's received, so she's not quite a rookie anymore. The Vigilante one is new, the ink still vibrant, the other is much more faded, the black ink starting to fade towards dark blue now. "You come recommended." Is the best compliment Eddie can muster right now. "I reported to duty to Sito, then hid. Probably the smartest move I've ever made, and I'm not known to make many."

There's a smile from Vega, and though Eddie cannot see it, it's surely heard in the woman's next words. "Yes. Could be. Could very well be." Finally, she finishes up the lines, and picks up a pair of mirrors. "This is the arrangement you wanted, yes?" She hands one to Eddie, then tips one to help reflect the layout of the design. "There will be much more flourish in the edges, more refined." The skin is decorated in red and deep purple. The red is applied as a guideline, the purple refines the lettering to a more readable text, but it's clear the real work comes with the freehand application of needles and ink to skin. There just aren't the supplies for stencils.

Eddie looks up into the reflection of the mirror, then nods her head vaguely. "Perfect." She takes a moment longer just to make sure there are no glaring mistakes, and then she's nodding again. "Perfect." She repeats, then settles back down and pulls out a cigarette. It's lit from a zippo she wears around her neck fixed to an old chain. "You do a lot of these for the crew?"

"I do not do as many as you might thing I would," Vega replies, reaching down to put a power pack into the machine she brought to tattoo. No cords for this girl. "I have done a few. Marines, usually. Our CAG. You." She tips the cig over the back of the couch to ash. No one will notice! She plugs the smoke back into her mouth, then slides on a pair of black gloves. "You have a reputation." Her observation is sudden, and a bit out of nowhere. "I find those with the reputation are usually the most interesting. Tell me," Vega squirts a little ink into a tiny cup. "Why is this they say you fight so much?"

Eddie doesn't make the mistake of shrugging away the question. Even though Vega hasn't really started, it's best to get into the practice of sitting as still as possible. Eddie's elbows rest on the meat of her thighs and one hand holds a cigarette and the other a flask while she pins fabric to her naked chest with a press of her upper arms. She alternates between her two vices, swigging and toking like a pro. "It's not easy being a woman in such a jocular occupation. You either fight like the big dogs, or you get eaten alive like a milkbone. I'd rather be one of the boys then just another piece of fur pie, even as 'equal' as they tote our military to be. So, you learn to fight. And spit and cuss. And don't get me wrong…it's fun as frak." She grins, "The CAG, huh? What did he have done?"

There's a hum of the machine from behind Eddie, then silence again as Vega makes a few adjustments. "A large tribal piece, with Scorpian influence. It fits his body beautifully," she murmurs around the smoke. Apparently the tattoo is big enough and placed so that it's unlikely to remain a secret for very long. And it's been a few weeks since it was done. "I know this, how it is being a woman in service. But it seems to me that sometimes our fellow pilots see the threat of something else. It is the most vibrant that gain these reputations." She grins just a little. "And those with the dirty mouths." There's a pause. "We begin." It's just that warning, then the hum of the machine activates again, she dips the needle, and begins the line work.

Eddie doesn't jump when the needle touches her skin, but she does tense slightly and grit her teeth against the first few tiny lines. She then exhales, excess smoke from her cigarette seeping out of her lungs. "Nice. I thought it would have been something to do with his wife." She says off handedly, before turning her head, her chin pressing to her shoulder. She can't really see Vega, but the effort is there. "It's usually the ones I intimidate that end up punching me out of the blue one day, or standing up on a table and calling me a whore. I don't mind, it only secures my position in the end."

"His wife, among other things. His family. His pilots." Vega murmurs this softly, as if the meaning behind the tattoo may not be meant for public consumption. "A woman enjoys herself, and she is a whore. Hm." Vega's touch is as light as one can be with this sort of procedure. The burn of the needle passing through layers of skin isn't as bad as it could be. She progress with an even, steady hand. "There is nothing wrong with being a whore. Whores are very well paid for the service they provide." She grins again at that, smoke wafting forward now and then while she speaks. She doesn't breathe it against the tattoo, however. "Were you with the Vigilantes long?"

"It was my first assignment right out of the gates. It should have been my last." Eddie says simply, her matter of fact manner making it seem like she whole heartedly believes that statement. "I was brought on board right before she disembarked. Shortly before the Holocaust. It was a way to tuck me out of the mainstream. Little did I know that would save my life. And now I'm here. The Vigilantes are dust and forgotten. I belong to the Hestia now, but I'll always have my patch. Just like those names you're inking. Dust. But not forgotten."

Vega listens as Eddie speaks, though the needle never leaves its work, etching the names of the deceased pilots forever into Morales' skin. It's a stinging, burning pain, but undoubtedly worth it. "Every pilot we meet influences how we fly. I am sorry I didn't get to meet your list." She dips the needles in the tiny ink well every time it comes off of the skin, and she progresses down through the names, doing just the fine outlines before any filling occurs. "You were close to Rabbit?"

Even Sito is on there, everyone Eddie's ever be in the same wing with that died during their service. "You knew some. Some I only knew by name only, but they deserve…something." Eddie's nostrils flare with the pain, but she endures it like a champ. You can't have this many tick marks on your skin and be adverse to a little sting. "He was as close to a big brother as I'll ever have. I would have never survived this long if it wasn't for him. And I'd swap places with him if I could. He was a good man. He had a wife, here, in the fleet. A future."

"That means he marked the heart of another, not that he is more deserving of the future than the next pilot. You may be a violent, loud, bitch of a woman, Morales," Vega murmurs, as she moves down to the last name, the burn probably turning to a constant ache by now. She wipes the skin now and then with glove covered fingers, dabbing up blood and extra ink. "You have that, a pilot to save or help now, some day. This is all we can do."

Eddie mms in quiet reflection. It's a rather non-commital sound, but it's quite likely Eddie's not buying into that quite as much as she'd love to. She's silent during the last of the procedure, letting Vega do her work and clean up Mooner's back when she's through. In the end, it is a rather solemn thing, getting the names of your dead friends and allies penned on your back. But with this, Eddie's done mourning.

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