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 Posted: Wed Mar 18, 2015 12:07 pm
The note felt clandestine, but he knew of no other way to contact her. It seemed an appropriate response in thankfulness to invite her over for dinner, though different sources on etiquette indicated that it could express romanticism. To combat this, he wrote the note in a pithy and direct manner that clearly indicated his intentions before taping it to her apartment door. In hindsight, he knew it was a gamble to declare a date and time for the reacquaintance when she possessed no way to respond to him, or communicate conflicts in schedule, but the food would not go wasted - Porsha expressed deep interest in his cooking always, and leftovers always disappeared promptly.
The scent of buttered leeks coated the air, though no more pungently than the venison stew. The side salad sat already assembled in a bowl, with pear for sweetness and enough vinaigrette to taste. The romaine and green leaf combined with spinach left a healthy dose of crsipness, and the added chicory paired well to the romaine. Cress added a pop of peppery flavor, and a few slices of crunchy radish lay over the top. Next to it sat a small plate sporting a few leaves of endive, cut lengths of celery, and baby carrot sticks around a store-bought hummus. Given all of the food, Shale easily estimated that there would be enough leftovers for his roommate to dine well after a late day at the gym.
Since most sources advised cleaning up the apartment with flowers and other lavish surprises for romantic interests, Shale deliberately avoided encouraging this 'best impression' by simply keeping the small abode tidied. His bow still hung on a single nail on the wall, Porsha's nail polish collection still sat on the coffee table, and other small hints of their cohabitation lingered about the place in an unobtrusive manner. Her cat, Lenore, lay curled on a blanket folded atop the last cushion of the couch. She hadn't moved since taking dinner. Shale didn't mind; her constant dips between his legs left him nearly tripping over her on many occasions.
In preparation for company, Shale chose his wardrobe carefully by opting for one of the tank tops Porsha supplied, and most importantly, he wore pants - slightly shredded blue jeans sporting a dirty wash for some kind of grunge look. They sat well on his hips without bothering too terribly the newly-formed scar tissue hugging his iliac crests.
Finally he turned the heat low on the stove, and the leather bracelets and ties sporting bones clacked loudly against the burner knob. All that's left now is to wait, and hope that she arrives before everything grows cold. Or arrives at all. Porsha's fridge doesn't have much space left, he thought to himself as he leaned against the counter to wait.
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Posted: Wed Mar 18, 2015 3:46 pm
She hadn't really known what to make of the note she'd found tucked into her door. The fact there was a note at all had been odd enough. The only people who ever left them for her were Arian and Liam, and then only on the counter... and even that was rare, since she saw them often enough not to need it much. The fact that it was from Shale, a man she had met all of twice, gave her pause as she read it over, absently unlocking her door with her book bag over her shoulder.
It had been almost... terse in its form, and a little bit presumptive. There was no call back number, just an address... what if the time didn't work for her? Did he expect her to drop all her plans for this? Not that she had any plans to drop... if she were not studying she could be patrolling, and that was not a time sensitive pursuit... But in the end, there was really only one answer she could give to his note and that was to show up at the correct time and place, dressed well with a vase of flowers in her hands. White Mayflowers made a bright, clean spot against the creams and pale blues of her dress and bohemian cowboy boots.
Lifting a hand, she knocked neatly at the door of the apartment and curved her hand back around the vase, holding it comfortably against her stomach. She could smell the food through the door way and it made her curious what Shale might have planned. He'd never asked about her preferences, but hopefully there was more than meat on the table...Strickenized changing tulips to mayflowers, because I like the symbolism better.
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Posted: Sun Mar 22, 2015 6:54 pm
Shale finished retying his hair into a cleaner ponytail when he heard the knock. A fluid gait carried her to the door where he unlatched both the chain and deadbolt before opening to Orah, who was practically consumed by a bouquet of tulips. He blinked twice at it, dumbfounded at its presence here, but stood aside for her without question. "Glad you could make it."
"The food is almost done," he spoke over his shoulder as he returned to the kitchen. The tile still retained its coolness, a boon to feet warmed too much by oven heat. After hoisting himself up onto the island, he turned his gaze back toward his first guest. "I wasn't certain what you ate, so I made a few options - and if none appeal, there's other dishes I can make on short notice." The thought of managing such a feat brought him back to life with his brother, whom often stopped by with a few new friends to feed without prior warning. More than a few evenings were spent in scouring the cupboards bare for the sustenance of strangers, which factored into the better part of his cooking experiences. Those memories still held fondly in his mind.
Shale couldn't ignore the question of the flowers any longer - an index finger shot outward toward the vase in her hands, with a question soon to follow. "... Do you need to do something with those?" Is this a customary affair? I don't recall anything about flowers save for romance occasions, and I clarified that this wasn't intended as a romantic pursuit... I'm certain she will explain on request.
The timer sounded, and Shale thrust out a bare toe that barely bridged the gap between island and oven to press the cancel button. "I realize that if I had a cell phone, inviting you over would've been easier and less intensive of guesswork." Sliding off the counter, he shifted the pot off its burner to stir the contents and test for completion. the broth was hot, and cleaving a piece of the meat with a spoon enunciated both tenderness and thorough cooking. He pulled the folded towel out of his back pocket to accompany the pot holder, and using both hands, transplanted the pan from stovetop to table.
And that isn't the only challenge. Inviting anyone over feels so much an assertion over them. It's more difficult than I thought to purge old cultural normalcies...
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Posted: Tue Mar 24, 2015 2:15 pm
When Shale opened the door, Orah was reassured she'd gotten the address right. She couldn't help giving him a once over with a nurse's eye, but he looked healthy enough. He didn't seem to be favoring one side over the other and his tanned skin was a healthy color.
The young woman followed him inside as she cradled the square vase between her hands and her eyes moved from watching him pull himself up onto the counter to scanning the apartment he lived in. It was neatly kept, but oddly enough, didn't really have the same vibe as Shale put off. It had a feminine air, one a lot more forceful than her own. The nail polish on the coffee table was a dead giveaway, considering his were unpainted. He had a girlfriend maybe?
"You don't have to go out of your way for me." Orah said as she came to the island and settled the vase on it with a soft tink of glass. "I eat most anything that isn't meat and I can eat that too, really. I just don't really care to most of the time."
Her fingers tweaked the stems into a better position as she watched the cat's sides rise and fall as it slept. He didn't particularly seem a cat person... she wondered if it belonged to his girlfriend then. Probably. Brown eyes widened at a finger pointed her direction and she glanced down a the flowers she had brought, abruptly sliding them closer to him a few inches in offering.
"Ah, well... these are for you. It seemed rude to be invited into your home and arrive empty handed, so I brought something to decorate your table with. My Da is a florist, I think I mentioned that before. I've grown up with flowers for all sorts of occasions and I like the meanings behind them." She settled the vase finally in an out of the way place on the island where he was unlikely to bump it. "I should have asked for a way to contact you, or given you some way of getting a hold of me in case something happened with your injury. It was an oversight on my part, I was just sort of distracted."
Distracted by the nearly naked man passed out on my couch... You'd think after Alois and running a hospital, I'd be desensitized enough it wouldn't turn me into a flustered teenager. It had though. She had to write that off as having him in her apartment, where strangers rarely went, and the only two men were room mates she trusted and who kept their clothes on.
"How are your stitches, by the way? If they're ready to come out, I could do that for you. It doesn't really hurt, but I'm sure it would be nice to have them out. You've been taking it easy and not stressing them, right?" It probably wasn't her place to ask, but at the same time, she had an interest didn't she, having put them in him? It would be her hard work she wasted if he tore them out, as well as all the pain he went through.
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Posted: Thu Mar 26, 2015 9:11 am
"I'm not going out of my way," he offered, as he attempted to assuage her bashfulness. "I just like to cook." He assumed meal preparation fell under the umbrella of 'cooking' even if none of the process involved heat of any sort. I wonder if it's 'going out of my way' to thank her at all. She is very submissive, and won't hold eye contact for long. While the need to assist someone medically invited more assertiveness on her end, I suspect she considers helping others a necessity rather than a choice. Maybe doing anything in gratitude for that equates to 'thanks for breathing'.
I wonder about that phrase though. 'Have to go out of your way'. I wonder if it's expected for others to trouble themselves for those they're interacting with.
"Where I'm from, it's expected to arrive empty-handed. To bring anything is considered an affront to the host. But, inviting anyone over at all is an insult toward the guest. It probably doesn't make any sense to an outsider, but invitations to the abode were more a socio-political challenge and assertion that the guest is beneath your standing." This probably doesn't make any sense. It was unnecessary to share it at all - if she were curious about my home, she would ask. I may just be tired of keeping all these practices to myself. "Not that either situation applies here - but it should explain why hosting is... Unfamiliar to me."
He glanced toward the vase when it touched down on the island, and the blotch of yellow lent to the otherwise dull countertops seemed to help liven the place. I wonder how livid Porsha might be to come home to a dozen potted plants. Ire aside, it might help with the utter lack of nature here.
After pulling out a pair of chairs from the nearby (and neatly confined) bistro table, Shale returned to the kitchenette for plates and utensils. "Contact information would be inconsequential - I don't have a phone. I would have to borrow Porsha's phone to call." He briefly considered how well that might go over, which would end in frequent teasing and probably citing Orah as his new love interest. Mentally he made note of obtaining his own phone once finding a job, though most jobs he considered required a contact number. Ultimately he found it a conundrum.
Orah's question pulled him from that train of thought, and he finished dressing the table for for a meal. Afterward he began transplanting the other bowls of food to carefully crowd the center of the table while retaining enough room for the plates. "They seem fine - still pink around the holes but otherwise healed well." The concern about his treatment of them went carefully unaddressed.
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Posted: Thu Mar 26, 2015 9:59 am
It was a curious custom that discouraged people from opening up their homes to each other. If both sides knew the invitation into a home was a negative thing, why would anyone ever accept it? It felt... isolating, to Orah.
"Your culture is fascinating to learn about." The young woman said as she braced a hip against the counter and watched him move about. She had to resist the urge to reach for the vase and she curled her fingers into her palms instead. She'd already brought them and given them, taking them away was pointless and wouldn't fix anything. He was making an effort to set aside his own culture to integrate himself into hers, as evidenced by the fact he'd invited her over at all. "It helps me understand you better. Hospitality is a part of my culture... inviting someone into your house, a private place, is a compliment. Its a show of trust. You're opening your home to them and while they're there, its expected that the host cater to the guests' needs. In return, a gift for the host can be given to show gratitude for the care, though that's a formal sort of thing... usually a verbal thanks is enough. Its common for friends and family to visit each other, to bond socially."
Unsure how he wanted to set his table, she waited awkwardly for him to finish, resisting the urge to help as was her nature. This was his home... he was the one in charge here. This was probably why she so rarely visited people... the necessity to allow them to care for her needs, few as they were, was hard.
"It used to be that people didn't have phones to carry around with them." She offered. "Borrowing one, or using a pay phone, would have been easier and more sure than leaving me a note. But its fine now, since I'm here. When your stitches are ready to come out, you should let me know. Its easier to have someone remove them for you. Unless you wanted to ask your... room mate? To do them for you."
Room mate seemed the less assumptive term to apply to whomever it was that lived with him than girlfriend. She felt a little like she was fishing for information with the statement, but too late now.
"It feels like there is a theme of cooperation that comes up a lot when comparing my culture to yours." Orah wandered towards the chairs as she spoke, turning her mind away from thoughts of a room mate to the place he came from again.
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Posted: Fri Mar 27, 2015 7:32 am
Shale offered a light shrug. "Familial visits are considered different to us. As I moved out, I would be allowed back into my original home as if I still lived there, and would hold all the privileges I had before. The same would be the case if my aunt visited, or any cousins." What she explains sounds more like servitude. It's very similar, but it seems no one is aware of any implications behind visiting another's house. Why think about it right now. There are more pressing needs, like eating.
Shale gestured toward one of the chairs to encourage her to sit. Instead of taking a seat himself, he removed the lids from each of the pots before leaving them on the counter to crowd near the vase. Afterward he sat somewhat crookedly in the remaining chair, with its back closer to his shoulder than his spine. "Pay phones mostly don't exist these days. I remember reading that the number is less than half a million that serve the united states, and probably a slimmer number than that in current year. Those that do exist are owned by establishments, and mostly warrant some kind of patronage for use. And all this is assuming I had your number initially." Using a ladle, Shale added some of the stew to his plate, alongside the buttered leeks.
"I don't know how knowledgeable Porsha is about suture removal. I'd be more likely to do it myself - it prevents me from relying on her being here when the time comes to remove them. She leaves on tours frequently." At least, those have been his experiences in living with her. "I assume it's partly why she lets me live here - otherwise, the apartment would not see much use."
"Cooperation is a necessity in both 'cultures'," he responded before taking a bite of leek. "But where I am from, conflict is also a necessity. You're aware that the body requires stress and adversity to stay healthy, right? One cannot stay strong without breaking down the muscles and rebuilding them after taxation. The same understanding applies to human relationships. Those challenges are as needful as the times for bonding." She jumps to conclusions rather quickly - unless I am not the only authority in Destiny City on some fringe town beyond the forest. I wonder if her propensity to assume is due to her chosen profession and its demands to find an answer for illness as soon as possible.
"Most talk of my hometown is extraneous information." Nostalgia, perhaps. "Most people don't need that information to interact with me."
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Posted: Sun Mar 29, 2015 6:37 pm
It was both a relief to be waved to a seat and another trial to wait for him, rather than step in and help, or do it for him. Sinking into the chair, she tucked her hands into her lap and watched as he brought the food to the table.
"Tours?" She wondered. Was this Porsha a musician? That was the first thing that came to mind, but a glance around the apartment revealed nothing to suggest such. What else did people tour for? Competitions maybe?
A frown drew her brows together, but she refrained from commenting on the stitches. If he wanted to do them himself, well. He knew himself, he could do as he pleased. She couldn't do more than offer her help. His argument about conflict in relationships was something to focus on instead and it rang with a weird familiarity. It wasn't the same, but... it made her think of Alois. Of the way they had argued over change. It brought the old feelings of frustration back to her, but this was not Alois. Pushing away that memory, she tried to focus on something else.
"I don't mind hearing about your hometown, Shale. I certainly told you enough of my past last time." She said as she let him serve himself, and then reached to add food to her own plate. She avoided the stew with its thick smell of beef, but she took some of everything that lacked meat in an effort to do the meal he had prepared justice. "You don't need to share your background with people, but... where we come from shapes us, I think. Knowing it can help someone understand you better, maybe. Its actually rather interesting to me. Were there other differences to life in the city? If I remember right, you're new to it? What brought you here?"
They seemed innocuous questions... something to further the conversation as she speared a leek with her fork and brought it to her mouth.
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Posted: Mon Mar 30, 2015 9:03 am
"Porsha is a part of the MMA. Mixed martial arts? Her tours consist of fighting other opponents for the championship title. Sometimes those tours take her overseas for weeks at a time, and she needs someone to feed her cat and take care of the apartment while she's out. That's where I come in." Most of the apartment's necessaries were now handled through an automatic bill pay system, but when she was absent up to a week before rent was due, she needed Shale to ferry the written check down to the building management. And luckily for Lenore, no amount of automated systems could dispense the love and food that she so required (beyond, Shale was reminded, cleaning the litter box daily).
Shale noted that Orah avoided the venison stew and opted to speak no further of it. He figured commenting that the deer ate well and thus the meat was flavorful wouldn't dispel any inhibitions she had over eating meat. It led him to wonder just how prevalent vegetarianism was in larger cities.
The hunter shrugged, spooning up some of his stew to chew while he considered sharing further. This culture favored equality where his did not, so the need to share was implied. She also explained that it helped her understand him better, even if her assertions were still off base in his opinion. All the considerations simply halted, though, when Orah asked a very important question that begged a nearing lie to answer benignly.
"I didn't intend to move here, actually," he replied while setting his spoon down. "But my brother went missing - he always expressed interest in city life - so I came here to look for him." Outright lying felt awkward and difficult to manage, but how would it sound to the layman if he cited that his roommate-c**-general turned him into a Negaverse agent and dragged him to town? The additional point of leaving his brother for dead would earn no kindness in this culture, either - and the thought of it still sparked a keening pain. "Porsha offered me a place to stay when she learned the story."
His attention to his food picked up again when he segued into differences between city life and his previous life. "There are differences, especially superficially, but there are other surprising similarities. My hometown depended on working together, which was as basic as breathing, to put it to comparison. But when compared to here, people still work together without thinking about it, but I don't think they're aware of the absolute requirement behind it. We were always aware of it. There's a certain element of life here that can be found out in the woods, too - your surroundings in the city grow, change, and die as trees do. 'Vocations' exist here as a parallel to what we consider jobs.
By contrast, it's a lot louder here. Culturally, everyone here is much less straightforward, and I wonder if that's due to an aversion to conflict. People here are unaware of their surroundings often, with their attentions on their phones. It's especially dangerous considering the vigilantes and the creatures. This would not be tolerated in my old town. And from what I have seen, there are very few elements of mysticism to daily life. Porsha has no religious sensibilities, which is unusual to me."
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Posted: Mon Mar 30, 2015 6:52 pm
"Oooh..." Orah hummed softly as she considered a room mate in the MMA. What kind of woman was Porsha? She wondered. It felt awkward to be in her apartment having never met her face to face, but she was learning a lot through the man across the table. And offering Shale a place to stay... it spoke well of her notions of hospitality and charity. Orah sort of wanted to meet his woman, who seemed larger than life.
"You think your brother ran away to the city?" She said between bites, clearing her mouth before she spoke. He didn't seem as concerned as she would have expected from someone who thought something untoward had happened to his sibling... but maybe it was just the only thing he could think of to do. It felt wrong to bring up the possibility of kidnapping or accident and potentially upset him. "Is that why you were looking things up at the library the other day?"
She considered the things he mentioned as differences, getting again the feeling that his hometown was rather small, and quite rural. It must have been a big change, to come here alone and without even a place to stay. He was a strong man for having accomplished it alone as he had. She wasn't sure she would have been able to do the same thing... but then again, maybe she could have. She'd abandoned everything she had ever known, once, to relocate herself to Order's safe haven. Things, places... she didn't feel the same connection to them anymore. It was the people that mattered.
"It seems like there are a lot more people here, maybe, than where you came from. I don't think it would be possible for that many people to get the same sense of community or interdependence... maybe in bits and pieces, like neighborhoods. Maybe the aversion to conflict is an effort to keep things peaceful and functioning smoothly." She shrugged with a little lift of her shoulders. "I've never really made a study out of anthropology, so I'm just guessing. Maybe the distraction you see is the way people cope with the dangers here... ignoring it lets them keep on living and finding some measure of happiness they wouldn't be able to if they really paid attention to the truth."
The mysticism was interesting... people didn't usually bring that up. It told her it was important to him though, more so than most people she talked to.
"There is a lot of diversity in the city and with that, I'm sure, comes a lot of different beliefs and religions. People don't usually talk about it, maybe to avoid conflict again. I think its still there... it just depends on who you ask, if they're willing to talk about it with you. Myself, I was raised with a mix of Roman Catholic and Hinduism... but I lean towards the latter. One of the challenges with parents from different cultures."
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Posted: Fri Apr 03, 2015 8:08 pm
"I don't want to discuss my brother's disappearance at length. It is a sore issue." And a lie. While I did not see his fate, I can guess it. All this time spent in the Negaverse allows me to put off mourning, but that time will come despite my aversion. I should get through the cycle before the Negaverse expects better of me.
Shale's hand hovered near his mouth, obscuring his lips while his gaze strayed downward toward the rim of the plate. He considered the circumstances that brought him to Destiny City as compared to what he disclosed to Orah, and knew that he would have to memorize this lie for any future interaction. It irritated him that he could not simply speak the truth, but Negaverse protocol regulating the divulgence of identity mandated it. Was it possible that Orah was another of the Negaverse? Perhaps, but hinting toward the subject with her might prove fruitless or dangerous. And with the odds weighted against him, Shale gave up on pursuing that endeavor. Instead he fussed with the food on his plate until conversation came around to his hometown once more.
"It's all speculation without taking surveys. Neither one of us will have an answer for the lack of conflict. It could also be that the people here receive their adversity from alternative channels, like the reports of creature attacks, the stress from living in a large city, their jobs, their common cultural values... The lists of potential explanations are endless." Slate enjoyed debating those points with me. It used to bring him great joy to try to prove me wrong - to come up with that one answer I wasn't expecting and confirm his point. I'd give a thousand lifetimes to trade him places right now.
But such a gift can never be.
Shale shrugged lightly at her comment before he finally recommenced eating. "It's best not to speak of it. Religious persecution is alive and well, even around the laws. While the Catholics cannot subsume Zoroastrians and other fringe religions anymore, social stigma offers the same effect. The only thing that has changed is how those holy wars are fought, and with what weapons. Your parents might've found a synergy in their beliefs, or never discussed it and used their child as the land upon which that war was waged. Or they might've found no need to contest their religions.
"My beliefs and practices are often stereotyped as bloody, barbaric, pagan and antediluvian. These are all true, superficially, which gives me reason to avoid discussing them. Here, I find, there is less acceptance for alternative beliefs than my hometown. And there was a significant rift between the two major religious practices."
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Posted: Fri Apr 03, 2015 10:04 pm
The young woman ducked her head as her questions ran into a figurative wall and she fussed with her food, pushing it around her plate.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." She said before she shoved some food into her mouth, chewing in silence for a while as he spoke. Upsetting him was exactly what she hadn't wanted to do, but she'd managed it. She should have known better and left the subject alone.
In fact, most of the things they were talking about seemed to fall out of favor as they spoke. He'd brought up spirituality, but then said it wasn't good to speak about it. There was no good way to truly analyze the difference between their cultures and when she tried, he seemed to shoot them down. Maybe she wasn't understanding what he was trying to describe, or their experiences were just too different... she wasn't sure.
Her fork poked around at her food as she chewed, her mind turning everything over and over. Would it be best to suggest a different topic? Should she just remain quiet and let him speak if he wished? Could she even find common ground with him? Orah was starting to feel like maybe not... and it bothered her. What had she become, that she couldn't hold something as simple as a conversation with someone new?
The silence lengthened and she let it, filling her time with eating rather than speaking. If he had something to say, well... he could say it then, and lead the conversation.
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Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2015 10:14 am
"It looks like you might be the uncomfortable one." Shale sat back in his chair, with arms folded and head slightly cocked while he rested his occipital bone against the top slat of the backing. Eyes half-lidded while he watched her coolly, taking in how her body language withered into some sullen stump of a girl left behind. The one from before felt so inquisitive, well-meaning, but now this at the first denial for information? The response she gave felt disproportionate to the simple declaration that he found the topic ill-fitted for the moment. Was there more to it, then?
And how was he to fix it? Shale's elbow found the arm rest and his hand offered perch to his jawline while he gazed out the window. The sky was an immaculate blue against the steel columns of skyscrapers and their cloaks of pollution. "My family maintained a peculiar naming convention - peculiar by my own people, that is - which meant that each of us were named similarly over generations. To go backwards through the years, it would start with my brother, Slate. Then me, Shale. My father, Geode. Then Agate, Sandstone, Basalt..." As he mentioned each name, his free hand offered a cyclical gesture. "And the purpose of these names were not to set us apart. They're..." He paused to fish for the word.
"Forewarnings, I suppose? That's not entirely accurate, but... We are not a volatile family. Like the rocks we're named after, very little disturbs us." Even the missing. Isn't that right?
No. I don't want it to be so. I would rather cry for my brother, know the impetus behind a frantic search. Call his name into the woods until I run myself hoarse. I would rather find deep emotional reason, closure, behind finding his corpse. Picking the maggots off. Braiding his hair one last time. Why can't I feel as she feels. When I skinned that tattoo off my leg, did I kill all emotions or just one?
"If you are still interested in learning about my origins, then I will take that as it is. I could tell you the significance behind each bone in those jars and what they're used for, but I doubt it makes good dinner conversation here. Until then, if you would care to tell me about that symbol on your chest," he finished, with a point toward the celtic knot displayed against her sternum.Whimsical Blue assuming her shirt shows a piece of it
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Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2015 6:11 pm
Orah felt her shoulders start to rise on either side of her neck, as though to tuck her head between them and she forced them down again. She wasn't a beaten dog, to cringe at him, but it was hard. It was like a cycle, her lack of self-confidence just self-perpetuating.
As he spoke, she pulled her eyes up and watched him looking out the window. He had a strong profile, even with his chin in his hand, and she found herself studying that as much as what he was saying... and then as she listened, she realized, he was telling her he wasn't as disturbed as she had thought. In a soft way, that both shared a piece of himself and eased her mind, without being confrontational about it. It startled her out of her downward spiral and she felt suddenly grateful to him for his understanding, for caring enough to gracefully offer her an out. It warmed and eased her, her shoulders and face losing their tension.
"I like that..." She said softly, her lips curving in a small, momentary smile. "I like names and things that have meanings."
When he pointed, her fingers went to her chest and ran over the inked lines before she reached to tug the neckline of her dress a little lower, making sure the whole of it was displayed.
"Its a Celtic Knot." She said as she sat up straighter, feeling a little more animated as she moved onto safer ground. This was something she knew, there was no danger of stepping over some line she didn't know was there. "This one has four corners because its for protection. I thought about flowers with the same meaning, but my dad being Irish, it felt right to get a knot."
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Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2015 7:11 pm
"It's a perpetual symbol too, if I'm not mistaken." Shale leaned forward with elbows on the table to examine the tattoo more closely. "Yes, no beginning and no end. Just like Ouroboros." I wonder if it is believed that the protection will follow her through infinity. It's worth asking after, but she stated that she leans more toward the Hindu religion. She may not much consider Celtic application of their own symbols. But that is part of what evolves spirituality through the years.
"Do you have any others? Tattoos carry a lot of importance." With no further appetite, Shale gathered his dishes and took them to the counter while he listened for Orah's further elaborations. Water struck the plate while he washed away most of the uneaten remains. He paused for a moment, gaze lighted on his open palm where water rushed to his fingertips. The white skull still lay plainly visible against the sunned skin, with pale eyes of flesh hue to stare blankly back at him. He closed his fist a moment and stretched the fingers again, watching as the the image faded with bloodlessness. And what of scars. What of nature's tattoos.
Shale puzzled over her choice for a moment before deciding that it was of little import between the two images. One seemed more faithful to Orah, who frequently wore flower print items herself, but Irish ran through her father's veins, and by extension, hers.
Protection is an interesting choice, he considered as he approached the table. He sat once more in front of the cleared portion and pulled his legs into an indian-style position. Protecting the heart, Orah? Did someone wound you? You wilted when I put a halt to your line of questioning about my brother. I will avoid the emotionally-charged for a while.
If I am right, though, then we have more in common than I thought.
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