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 Posted: Tue Feb 26, 2019 4:43 pm
"Leg up, darling," said Austen, waiting until Becca had gotten herself seated onto the bench. "Stretch your legs out in front of you - there you go, that's good. I know it probably feels a bit weird sitting like that, but trust me, it's the best position."
She slid on her gloves and wheeled herself closer, reaching to snag the ointment and prep materials, plucking up a gauze pad and a cotton ball. All of her movements were fluid and quick without being reckless; it was clearly a second skin to her, everything automatic and easily remembered. A place where she felt at home more than she had in a while, not that she had anything against her family, whom she adored (most of the time), but this was different. This was her, and everything she loved most in the world. Art and magic and connections.
Austen began dabbing at Becca's ankle with the sterilizer, smoothing the gauze pad over the skin. The question made her smile.
"I began apprenticing when I was eighteen, officially,." she said, wiping meticulously. "But I started looking into tattoos when I was about fourteen. Of course, Mum wouldn't let me get one at all, she was pretty aghast at the idea, all over, and you need parental permission if you're underage. But I still kept looking up things, I had so many books and I covered my walls with tattoo pictures."
She let out a laugh, grinning up at Becca as she leaned back again, tossing the used gauze away and picking up the tattoo gun.
"I think she thought I was a bit - you know - " Austen made a whistling sound, rotating her finger by her head . "But eventually she accepted it. Mostly. I mean, I think she still wishes I was some sort of doctor or something, but here we are."
She tested the pressure and the buttons, doublechecked the colors, and finally beamed up at Becca.
"All ready, love? I won't lie, this is going to sting and it'll be uncomfortable, so if you need to take a break, just let me know. No shame in saying when it's too much, all right?"
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Posted: Tue Mar 05, 2019 4:58 am
"Moms are like that, yeah."
Becca's mom, honestly, hadn't really cared one way or another what Becca ended up doing because she was so absorbed in her own life to care... but it made for better conversation, Becca had found, to be agreeable and lament along with others when it came to helicopter parents or parental units who fussed about what parental units are supposed to fuss about.
She watched with intrigue as the girl did her preparations, proud of herself for not jerking as the cold sterilizer touched her skin. "I can't decide what I want to do -- isn't that scary, a college student with no career path picked out? All the recruiters and guidance folks say that's normal but I just... I can't even pick a major to save my life."
Admitting it to her tattoo artist was definitely cheaper than a therapist -- and it wasn't like the poor girl could flee, not when she was forced to sit with her for the next half hour or so, ha!
"I've got a high pain tolerance," she assured her, then paused. "At least, I think I do?"
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Posted: Fri Mar 08, 2019 6:03 pm
Austen loved her parents, but it did make it a bit difficult to even talk about her career when all she got were comments like "Oh, Austen, aren't you ever going to get a real job, love? or Are you still at that little shop of yours? She'd learned long ago to just keep doing what she was doing, and it wasn't that they hated what she did, they just...didn't think it was suitable for a woman.
Sometimes it still stung. Sometimes it just made her roll her eyes harder.
"It's not scary at all," said Austen, as she readied the gun, bending over Becca's leg. "Well, I mean...it's not scary in that I think there are loads of people like that. I don't think Blue decided what he wanted to be until he graduated uni, I think his degree is in maths or something."
Austen flashed a quick smile up at her. "Well, if you ever need a break, just say so, all right love?"
Bending carefully, she flipped on the gun with a loud whirring noise. With careful and practiced precision, she pressed the tip of the needle to Becca's ankle, pressing down with just enough pressure to get it flowing, and then began to move, tiny little strokes that added the beginnings of the first star.
"What do you like to do, then? When you're not at uni, I mean."
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