Welcome to Gaia! ::

Braeden laughed sparingly. "I remember using a pen machine in prison, yeah. You get a ball point and tear the point out, and then put a needle in it.. you can make a pump out of all kinds of things, and you can get ink from magazines. Scraping off the pigment with razor blades, y'know." He scratched along the stubble down his neck, lazily. "But you can get aids from that s**t, so stay away from it. My clan did it with needles, but I've heard of others going native and using sharkteeth and that kinda s**t."

Braeden gave Tsurai a skeptical look, licking his lips out of dryness. "If you can get the s**t for me, sure, kid, I'll ink you. I don't know why you'd want it. Or what you'd want."

He watched Tsurai's expression carefully, trying to read him but failing. "Wonder where tall dark and stupid went."

Braeden sighed. "Didn't I just ********' say.." He leaned his head back, mumbling quietly with his eyes shut before letting his face fall back to where it was previously. "I need a ballpoint pen, something sharp that can be broken down into a needle- old knife blade, or if the ballpoint is big enough we might be able to do something with it- magazines and paper clippings, and something to hold ink in, something small. Then a tube and.." He pondered. "********.. I dunno what we have that could make a pump.. a decent one, anyway." He shrugged. "Look around for something that's promising. But I don't think you'll be able to find any of that s**t and get it without a fight, or at least a good talking to. Good luck with that."

Braeden was beginning to look like he'd never leave his former domicile- of course, he'd made no indication in either way, but he seemed so damned comfortable.

Isiah looked up, hair plastered down against his head from the acid rain making it's way through the cracks. "Yeah, I guess. You done playing with Braeden yet?" He cursed himself immediately after saying it. The jealousy was simply immature.

He grunted, staring upward, before opting to climb back up the rope ladder to join him. Isiah smoothed wet hair back away from his forehead, sighing. "What are you going to get a tattoo of?"

Isiah folded his arms over his chest. "You can't make decisions like a tattoo on the fly, you know," He shuddered inwardly at how maternal he sounded. "Besides, nobody knows where that needle's been. Could give you aids, or hepatitus, or god knows what." He tapped his finger on his forearm. "Who put you up to this?"

Isiah laughed a little, unfolding his arms and shoving his hands into his pockets. "I've done some stupid things myself, believe it or not. What do you want?"

The rain was doing some good, for Isiah, anyway- the red-hot burn he had gotten from overexposure was lessening in intensity, skin peeling away down his shoulders to promote healing.

Isiah tilted his head to look at it, shaking his head back and forth. "Not bad.. where'd you get it, though? It's kinda big." He was less against the idea now, but more interested. Years of codesigning his own inks with their tribe's artist had given him an innate interest in the stuff.