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 Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2015 8:33 pm
She nodded as he leaned forward, her eyes widening a little with the realization he was more or less staring at her chest to view her tattoo. She brushed it with a fingertip before she released her neckline.
"Yeah... unbroken line, woven about itself." She said softly. She forked a few more mouthfuls as he rose to take care of his plate. "I only have the one. It was something of an impulsive decision, but it sort of... called to me. It felt needful. I haven't felt the need again for another. It needs to mean something if I'm going to permanently put it into my skin, and I haven't found something with enough significance, I suppose."
Orah had never thought she'd get a tattoo in the first place, getting another seemed a far off concept. It was something to think about, maybe. Her scars were forever an embarrassment... could a tattoo cover them with something beautiful she was glad to wear? A tattoo that stretched from her ribs to her hip, though, promised to be both expensive and painful. The small knot on her chest had been bad enough.
"You have a lot yourself." Orah said as he came back to the table, finishing off what was on her plate and settling back. 'A lot' was a bit of an understatement, considering the true extent of them she had seen at her apartment. "They're very bold, in color and design. Did you choose yours for significance?"
Done with eating, she mimicked how he'd dealt with his plate to put hers away. Water gurgled, washing cold over her fingers as it carried bits of food down the drain. She set the plate aside as she turned and set her hip against the counter, turning her eyes back to him. She felt a little better now... easier. Hopefully things would stay that way. She needed to work on it, on being better. Being around Shale felt helpful, in a small way. He was as his name suggested... steady and solid. Something to ground on. As long as she didn't let herself get out of hand.
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Posted: Mon Apr 06, 2015 7:34 pm
"All of them carry significance." Shale watched her busy herself with the dishes and thought little of it. He waited for her to return to her seat before he demonstrated some of the particulars behind the tattoos. "Each tattoo has a specific title, and behind that title are meanings that work together in a lattice. It's hard to describe, but these tattoos are our accomplishments and our future. We'd call them insignias. Most of us have them, but some of the newer generations hadn't bothered with it. The practice is more endemic to one side of my hometown than the other. I've always kept up on mine.
Shale found it an appropriate time to indicate some of the titles for those he collected over his years. "The Labyrinth," he started, brandishing his forearms. A finger traced the rim of his optic foramen. "The Hawk's Eye." Both hands faced her, palms outward. "The Duality." Lastly, he tugged his shirt up to reveal the largest tattoo spreading over his midsection - a snack with another head where its tail should reside, while one head attacked the latter third of itself. "And the Hydra to name a few. Each one of them has some kind of significance pertinent to me alone." Afterward he allowed his shirt to drop over the rest of his skin.
"Most of mine indicate experiences or accomplishments, except for the Hydra. That one is a prediction of fate. Its significance in my life is indicated by its size - some people have tattoos for their fates as big as your thumb, but mine is fairly substantial. Our neighbors thought it meant something would happen between my brother and I, with one of us at fault for it." And that prediction has already passed as truth. My days of skipping mourning will catch up to me, surely. And if I chose to return home for penance, what would become of me? I hope my culture has not backslid so much that it resorts to simple murder for sons of Judecca.
I cannot wait much longer.
"The colors hold significance too, mostly as modifiers to the core meaning." Stretching his hands outward, Shale eyed the patterns up his arms and how they shone in the quiet sunlight that spilled over the table. "Red has to do with the core of yourself, so a Red Labyrinth could be tribulations that affected your fundamental being. Sometimes it's brought on by interpersonal relationships, by loss, by discovering that you're not the person that you want to be." Finally his hands dropped into a loose crossed position on top of the table. "But it's most telling that we use a labyrinth instead of a maze."
Finally he shrugged, to allow her a nonverbal out should she choose to embark on a different subject.
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Posted: Mon Apr 06, 2015 8:31 pm
Leaving the counter as he talked, she came back to the table and settled into her chair, one leg tucked under herself. Elbows settled on the table, she watched as he displayed his tattoos for her. Listening to him talk about his tattoos and what they meant to him was interesting, fascinating really, and it felt nice, that he would open up to her about them. She'd felt like she was intruding on something with her questions before... that he shared this part so easily soothed some of her worries. He seemed proud of them, even.... Orah liked that.
Her eyes traced downward as he lifted his shirt to show the hydra on his stomach, lingering on the lines of muscle a shade more than the lines of the tattoo. It made her cheeks warm, but hey... she wasn't ogling him, just looking. She was human, even if she'd only been with one man. Or so she justified it to herself as she shifted her eyes back to his face and the 'hawk's eye'.
"If the hydra doesn't mean trouble with your brother, what did you get it for, and at that size?" She mused. Her head tilted a little to the side as she settled her chin on her curled hand. "A Labyrinth... to protect what's at the center of it? Mazes... they're usually in and out, right?"
It was the best guess she could make, without looking up the definition of each. Mazes reminded her of children's puzzles, with an entrance and an exit. Labyrinths made her think of... well, Pan's Labyrinth, for one. The Labyrinth, with David Bowe.... and those had things at the center of them. It seemed a logical conclusion to draw.
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Posted: Mon Apr 06, 2015 9:14 pm
"The fate tattoo isn't chosen by me. There are enough practices among us that someone else discerns the icon for the fate, the Hydra, and its importance to my life. There's not much determination that goes into getting the tattoo, either - it's something like a cultural milestone. And it's up to the one wearing the fate tattoo to recognize when they've encountered their fate." Shale latticed his fingers together in a mound of knuckles and rested his chin atop the valley between joints. His gaze fell to the remains of their dinner, and he briefly considered packing it away into the fridge.
He rose again, one hand already on the pot full of stew, and started collecting the dishes for transfer into tupperware. "Mazes have dead ends, and can contain multiple paths to their conclusion, yes. But labyrinths are unicursal - they have only one path, and one cannot run into a dead end with it. Basically there is only one thread of fate you can attend to at any instance in your life, but there are no threads that lead to a dead end. The tribulation is overcome by taking the one path that cannot be wrong, no matter the length. And some twist nearly indefinitely."
Carefully the hunter scooped the remains of their dinner into each container before capping it and stacking them in the fridge. For a moment, he lingered by the door to cool himself with the brisk air. Half-turning, he offered eye contact while gently rocking the door to fan out some of the refrigeration. "Mine was earned after I discovered my chosen profession and overcame some... Personal obstacles. As the labyrinth dictates, there were no other ways to overcome that trial, but I've noticed that isn't a belief often shared in this city. People leave a lot to hindsight." It was generalizing, he knew, but he bore witness to many strangers explaining the actions they should've taken in the past or the choices they could've made that would place them in a more positive position. While aware of this practice now, he still didn't understand its use.
"While tattoos are celebrated, scars take more precedence. The ones on my shoulder tell of my strength more than the insig-... tattoo around my eye, even though the tattoo is a greater nod to skill. Scars are your strength. Your proof of life. It's odd to see people here trying to cover them up with face creams or dissolve them with Mederma. It's a waste to hide them." Parting from the fridge, he let the door shut with a quiet click behind him. For a while he debated between simply stripping off his shirt to cool down further or turning up the thermostat, but both might render his guest uncomfortable in different ways. However, he found no reason to suffer through the heat.
"Is it too warm in here for you?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 06, 2015 10:09 pm
Orah sat back as he got up to put away the food, proud of herself that she could (mostly) sit back and let him do it. Learning to let other people do things was one of her goals to work on.
His explanation kept her interest as she watched him, head still on her hand. She found she liked to watch him work... he had an efficiency to him, a sureness. She liked listening to his 'stories' too... the way he explained things.
"People are shallow sometimes." She mused. "Some don't think very far ahead, or are too focused on their own path through life to see what's around them. I agree though... its pretty common that anyone you talk to has something in their past that they regret."
Orah's teeth worried her lip as she lifted a shoulder and let it drop again. He was sharing a lot... she could share too.
"I don't like how my scars look... but you aren't the first person to have that sort of a view of them. I knew someone who liked them, once. Mine just feel like reminders of moments I don't like to remember, and they'll never really go away. I'll carry those events with me forever, and I don't like that they feel like they define me when someone sees them. I want people to see... me, not these ugly marks." She said as she sat back in her chair, sudden nervous energy pushing her to gather what was left on the table to bring to the counter. As she set them down, she blinked for a moment at the question that came from seeming nowhere.
"Ah... not particularly? But if you're warm, um, feel free to turn up the air or whatever? I'll be okay."
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Posted: Mon Apr 06, 2015 10:31 pm
"If shallowness is promoted by the culture, and it is, then they are hard-pressed to deviate for fear of being ostracized." Not that it excuses empty practices, but it is explanation for those who pay less mind to following suit. "DO you ever do that? Look back and wish you'd done something differently?"
Every experience in your life leaves its mark, visible or not. They are what builds us into the creatures we are. Who taught you this concept of good and bad? In duality there is synergy, but dichotomy stands at odds. Would you take a better way if presented with the opportunity?
Shale's fingers drummed once on the counter while he passed it to check the thermostat. 68, it read, with its temperature on hold. He frowned slightly. "I prefer to believe that every experience I've had is a treasure, because I have survived every one of them. What comes of their conclusion is my choice."
The hunter settled for stripping off his shirt as an easier and most cost-effective way to mitigate the heat. A quick toss landed the s**t atop the counter, and it slid to a halt precariously close to the sink. "Ugliness seems pretty abhorred here if natural processes are loathed. What scars do you have that cause so much hate?" She does not look especially muscular, so strength training and any active sport requiring it are out of the question. Toned, though, which suggests frequent activity. Beyond that, I cannot guess what events she might've engaged in to warrant scarification. Simply living often leaves scars of its own - she may not have done much more than fumble a pan of hot grease to enact some noticeable scarring.
"I once met a man with a scar on his face. It cut from the top of his cheek, across his lips, and down his chin," Shale explained, using his finger to trace the path across his own countenance. "But he did not wear it with shame."
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Posted: Mon Apr 06, 2015 10:53 pm
He asked a heavy question and Orah dropped her eyes, sliding them away to look out the window instead. There were so many things to regret... where to even start? And just thinking about them threatened to open that yawning chasm she worked so hard to keep a lid on. She smoothed her features carefully blank. He seemed to find no worth in regrets... and she had far too many. Tanned fingers picked at the edge of the counter as she shrugged lightly.
"There are a lot of things I wish had turned out different. There are a lot I know would have, if I had made some other choice. It doesn't matter in the end, because I can't change it. All I can do is try to keep moving forward and learn from my mistakes." She said, her voice flat. "I don't care for reminders of things I can't change."
She didn't want to feel this right now... not with a practical stranger. She had enough trouble among friends, who knew the stories behind them...
The shirt that went flying through the air pulled her attention back and she watched it with wide eyes, flicking a glance to him and away again. Every tattoo he had stood out sharp on his skin, pulling the eye and effectively pulled her away from her brooding. He was... strangely good at that, Orah was coming to find. And she was going to start staring if she wasn't careful.
"There's um... a big one across my ribs, and a smaller one below that. And one across my hip on the other side." She admitted, forgetting for a moment how odd that might sound coming from someone like herself in the need to talk abound something.
"Ah... I know someone like that too, with that same face scar." Orah said as she pushed away from the counter to wander into the living room, her fingers picking at her skirt now. "He goes to the same college I do. Um... is this bow yours?"
Safer topics... she needed a safer topic. The bow stood out oddly in the apartment, displayed on the wall as it was when there were few other decorations of its type and the utilitarian, not decorative, look it had.
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Posted: Tue Apr 07, 2015 8:08 am
Shale nodded. She was honest about it - somewhat stuck on the past, yes, but she possessed enough wit to move forward regardless. Body language from her spelled hurt and sensitivity with the way her voice lost its luster. The hunter figured it was better to let the subject pass; if he truly wanted to focus on it and get past it, she would stay on topic.
Unsurprisingly, she shifted to different gears after confirming that she might've known Quenton (which lent an interesting sense of small community). Shale glanced over his shoulder toward the compound bow that hung by its cam on a single nail. The whole of the bow sported a camouflage treatment, save for the black stabilizer and sight. It looked well taken care of, which was a source of pride for the hunter. "Yes, that's one of mine. The other compound is packed in a case. That one's for target practice, so it doesn't get as much... Use. You can take it down if you want to look at it." Though I don't know what interest it will hold if you don't shoot or have interest in shooting. Were you just trying to change the subject?
After pushing in the chairs left at the bistro table, Shale padded into the living room to sit cross-legged on the couch. He scooted himself in a slight slouch and left both hands to rest on his thighs while his guest perused the living room. A bow was an interesting pick of conversation, with all the potentially more familiar items laying about. As a girl who cut flowers and knit flesh, though, he didn't think her interested in a hobby like his.
"Just try not to dry fire it. Bad for the bow." Shale leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes temporarily. When was the last time he used that bow? Likely when he discovered hunting with it proved dangerous - the composite material wasn't made for some of the intense heat days that befell the forest, and the humidity threatened to warp the bow so that the string sat permanently to the left. Luckily he managed to send it back for repairs, and still used it for hunting on cooler and more acceptable days, but ultimately that bow fell out of favor.
Before he finished his musings, the familiar pointed weight of furry feet greeted his knee. The cat soon followed in climbing atop his lap and immediately collapsing into a curled weight. Lenore purred, and Shale fulfilled the sacred duty of Petting The Cat while Orah cast her inspection.
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Posted: Tue Apr 07, 2015 10:40 am
Permission given, Orah reached to take the bow down with both hands, lifting it over the nail that held it.
"Oh... its heavy..." She murmured as she turned it over, settling the grip into her hand the way she had seen in pictures. It was so different from her sensi attack as to be completely different things, and then she wondered at her surprise. Of course they were nothing alike...
Fingers curled to hook around the string, she gave it an experimental tug, though it was little more than a flex of the curving length. It felt incredibly stiff, but she wondered if that was more a measure of the strength in Shale's arms versus hers. It wasn't like she spent time lifting heavy things or pulling bows of this size. The bow felt so solid and real and heavy... something that was used for what it was designed for, going back hundreds of years and changed only in small ways until the version she held now.
"Dry firing..." Orah said as she studied the sight, squeezing one eye shut to peer through it. "Is that drawing it all the way back and letting it go, without an arrow?"
There had been people at camp who had known how to hunt with a bow. It had an advantage over hunting with a gun for stealth. She'd never cared to be among their numbers, but holding this item... it felt good. It resonated with what she had been imitating with magic for so long now. She gave the string another experimental tug, getting it back further without being able to pull it to a full draw. She eased the string back to resting position as she turned, finding Shale stroking his room mate's cat.
"Do you go hunting with this? I've never used one before, just seen people with them. Living in the city doesn't give one much opportunity for something like this and I have to admit, I didn't leave the city much until more recently."
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Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2015 7:56 am
Yes, it's heavy. Were you thinking it would be of comparable weight to a yew bow made of risers and some tape? They look light when you watch movies, I suppose.
"Yes, the composite material isn't light. Neither are the limb bolts that hold it together. They are made to be as light as possible for what they are, though. That one you're holding is made of carbon fiber." Her grip looked correct, save for the detail where the bow was left-handed. It encouraged a smile. "You'll need to switch hands on the grip. Hold with your right, pull back with your left." He estimated that Orah was right-handed given her eating habits. If she often chose right hand over left in normal activities, she would lack considerable strength in her left arm when compared to her right. And if she could not pull the string to length with her right hand, then he needn't worry about dry firing.
At least she understood the mechanics of dry firing. "Correct." He stood carefully, giving the feline ample time to descend from lap. Afterward he rounded the coffee table to pull out one of its drawers for the old quiver that came mounted to the bow. Its factory arrows still protruded from the strange, styrofoam-esque wedge beneath the hard plastic shell. He pulled one loose to show her the tip. "The same terminology is used for guns. I don't know enough about them to explain why it's harmful for a gun, but the weight of an arrow is substantial and all of the parts on the bow are calibrated to function with that weight. If you use an improper arrow, you may damage the bow.
"Unlike guns, you need to cut your arrows to a different length depending on your draw length. I use a trigger release system, so my arrows are shorter than they would be if I used my fingers. This can be dangerous if I'm out hunting and something happens to my trigger release. And as you might guess, my arrow length does correspond in part to my draw length, which corresponds to the numbers around the cam. There must also be consideration for the weight of the arrow. That bow you're holding is a sixty-pound peak bow, which needs a 300-grain arrow. My 70# peak bow shoots a 350 grain arrow. If I had a higher peak bow, that would use a heavier weight arrow." But since I don't find many buffalo or crocodiles around here, and I'm not shooting youma of questionable thickness, that would leave me over-bowed.
Shale offered her the arrow if she found the need to inspect it. "The nock at the end will clip to the string. It sits between the two gold rings. The white vane should point up, instead of the oranges."
"I do hunt, but I typically use a different bow. This one I usually target shoot with. That's why it still has the factory vanes - the plastic fletching - on it. I haven't bothered switching them out to feathers since I'm not hunting with them." And thus the typical points instead of broadheads. "My hunting bow is still in its case. Were you thinking of picking up archery, then?"
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Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2015 11:12 am
Orah turned the bow to study the curving arms curiously. Carbon fiber... She wasn't entirely sure what that was, but she had to assume it was a good material. Shale seemed to know what he was talking about.
A line formed between her brows as she glanced down at her grip, shifting it from one hand to the other before she glanced up for approval of the new hold and caught him smiling at her. She shifted a little at it, her own lips quirking.
"That means your left handed, then?" She said as she gave the string an experimental tug, noting how much harder it was for her non-dominant arm. The grip felt weird on that side too, sort of awkward. Orah watched as he went to pull the quiver out of a drawer and offer her one of the arrows. He was explaining some things to her, and while it was interesting, it was a little hard to follow.
Trigger release? 300 grain? Peak? It was hard, towards the end of it, not to let her eyes glaze over in confusion. It was... very technical stuff.
"Is a trigger release that... clip thing I've seen in pictures, that holds the string when you pull it back? I can see why you'd need arrows in the right length... my arms are shorter than yours, I wouldn't be able to pull a bow back as far as you can, so my arrows would need to be shorter. For example." Orah reached for the arrow as he offered it, holding it between her fingers just below the fletching and running a forefinger over the notch at the end. "Why do you switch out the fletching? And, why is there one feather a different color? I... hadn't thought about taking up archery, but its interesting. I might like to try it, I think."
She smiled as she glanced up at him, offering the arrow back. "You wouldn't have some pointers would you?"
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Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2015 9:27 pm
"I am left handed," he confirmed. He shifted to sit atop the coffee table and push the door flush with the back of his calf. "That bow probably isn't suited for you, assuming that you eat with your dominant hand." His brother maintained ambidextrous eating habits and switched liberally, but no one he met thus far in the Destiny City area held the same mannerisms. Orah looked significantly more awkward holding the bow in its proper position, thus supporting his right handed theory.
"You're right on both accounts. I can't guess your draw length, but after that is known, measuring out arrows is easy enough." Cutting and fashioning the arrows for their fittings, however, demanded a small sum of money. Purchasing an arrow saw demanded near a hundred dollars, whereas a dremel mounted with the right materials would offer the same solution at the fraction of the cost. However, that demanded enough time and measurements to rig the setup to his standards. All of which assumed that Orah intended for him to cut her arrows, rather than a typical bowyer found at archery shops. "You will want your arrows to protrude about an inch past this point," he explained while pointing at the center of the bow. "Too short and you can damage yourself."
Explaining the differences between vanes and feathers was another technical feat that he suspected Orah may not be interested in. He explained nonetheless. "Vanes are a stiff plastic material that are supposed to correct the arrow's flight. The problem with vanes are that they're much heavier than feathers, which produces a less accurate flight. There are other reasons why feathers are preferred that are far more technical , but ultimately you're looking at a product made by man some tens of years ago and comparing it to an evolutionary advantage held by birds for thousands of years. There's really no comparison. And with the different colored feather, it's just an index point. I use it to determine which direction the nock latches to the string."
Shale reclaimed the arrow and ran his fingers from vanes to tip, feeling along the carbon fiber body for any cracks. Since the arrows rarely saw use, he was unsurprised to find no imperfections. "I could teach you, if you're looking to pursue it. You should be able to rent a bow at different shooting ranges. Most of the ones I investigated required membership, but there are some that charge by the day. You will want to know your draw length, though, and I don't know if they measure for it. Draw weight is easy to bank off for beginners. Although, you might want to get a feel for the action of a bow before you try shooting one..." Shale trailed off afterward as he searched his pockets for a well-loved and often forgotten allen wrench set.
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Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2015 1:51 am
She shrugged as she ran her fingers down the string, passing over the gold marks.
"I'm right handed, yes." She said as she eyed the center he pointed out to her. His explanations made sense this time, if what he'd said before had been confusing. Vanes made sense, as did why you would use feathers over plastic. "I can see why you practice with these... if they're less accurate and you can still hit what you aim for, then you should do perfectly well with something better."
Orah's hands ran along the length of the bow, her fingertips tracing the curves of it with thoughtful absent-mindedness. Did she want to learn? It was interesting, one of the few things that had caught her interest in a good many years that didn't involve fighting to save the world or selling flowers to people. It honestly had nothing at all to do with her current lifestyle and that was... actually part of its appeal. It wasn't something she would normally do. It was a chance to do something different...
"If you would be willing to teach me, I would really like to learn how to shoot a bow. Its not my normal thing, but I think I would enjoy it quite a lot. We could probably work out something to repay you for the time and effort you put in." She very carefully avoided mentioning that she figured she had a decent idea of what firing a bow was like... even if it was a fake, magic bow.
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Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2015 3:04 pm
"I should change them, but I haven't found time or inclination." Changing the grain of the arrow involved potentially tweaking the sight, which demanded time and patience that he lacked currently. It would improve accuracy - which also suggested a higher potential to split his own arrows. He found it a highly expensive bragging point. "I'm missing a lot of my tools right now."
Her willingness to learn caught Shale's attention, and he nodded approvingly. "I could teach you Archery demands patience and conditioning, but if you're interested in putting out the effort, I can get you started. Repayment would be fine, so long as we use a barter system - there are a few things I need, and I dislike using money as a middle man. Come back into the kitchen; I can measure your arms for your draw length there." He motioned for Orah to follow him as he padded back behind the counters. The preparation required would demand some hours in researching proper places to shoot with her, bows that may fit her slight frame better (as he estimated a short draw bow is best regardless), and investigations into trigger releases that may fit her small wrist.
After digging out the tape measurer, Shale motioned toward the longest blank wall in the apartment. "If you're interested in going over what you need to know now, it's going to take quite some time. If you don't have many hours to spare, we can always catch up at a later date."
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Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2015 6:55 pm
Her face brightened as he agreed to teaching her and she smiled, wider and happier than she was used to being these days. She had so few things that held her interest lately, that inspired her. She found she was actually excited for this.
"I'm definitely willing to put effort into this." She said with a firm nod. "I never do things I'm not serious about."
She took a moment to hang the bow back up on the wall where she had gotten it from before she padded after him into the kitchen, forgetting entirely about his lack of dress in favor of this new opportunity. She hadn't had anyone measure her for anything in years, but this was an important step. A little discomfort was not going to stop her.
"I didn't know how long dinner would take, so I don't have any plans tonight." Orah turned to head for the wall he indicated, turning to put her back to it. She assumed this was the proper stance to take... It would be interesting to see how he figured out draw length and what that would end up meaning for her when they finally got to the firing range.
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