[M] [P] Alone, I break.

Lucia Cabriel · 08-19-2010, 05:33 AM

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WC: 877.

The shift in his eyes was momentary; it came and went like a passing breeze. For a moment, Lucia swore she saw rage in those coals, but as quick as it appeared, it had gone. Though intense, his gaze did not trigger an ounce of fear into the obsidian female. Instead, it did quite the opposite – her curiosity fed by the several possibilities of how, why, and what had created this man in front of her. He was unusual, unique – and he seemed to share a similar likeness for body modification. There seemed to be a silver-lining in this cloud after all, and in some twisted way, she almost felt the need to thank Daisuke for allowing her to follow the pathway to this event.

Raising a brow, bemused at the thought of being pierced everywhere; Lucia could not help the thoughts which entered briefly into her mind. She was not the most innocent, and generally, she would make no attempt to hide it – but from first impressions, she assumed that this male would not find her humour as amusing as she. “I see,” she spoke bluntly, unable to find a suitable response to the notion of having piercings all over her body, her thoughts now distracted by the idea of getting another tattoo. Her first, and only, tattoo had been given to her by a gypsy traveller; he had wanted sex, she had wanted inks – it had been a fair trade at the time, and whether her actions were smiled, or frowned, upon, was irrelevant. Her chest bore the mark of her deeds, and she held no regrets. In all honesty, the traveller, whose name she could not recall, had been a half-decent lover.

“I don’t mind splitting it with you,” the obsidian female spoke quickly, but clearly. She had not wanted the silence to build up too much, as every time it did, she swore that Daisuke’s voice rang out in the wind, taunting her, threatening her – trying to push her further and further away from her beloved soldier. Though not usually intimidated, the torture received from her mind had begun to push her boundaries, and though she would never admit it, Lucia was beginning to feel the effects – she hadn’t laid with her lover in weeks now, and oh god, how she missed him. “I’m not sure exactly what I would get tattooed,” the words broke her thoughts; she had barely registered the sentence before it flowed into the half-empty room. Watching Cotl carefully, her eyes set with an intrigued glow, Lucia continued to speak, though with her mind elsewhere, it was a gamble on whether her sentences made any sense at all. “Obviously, I have the one on my chest, which was given to me as a gift from a passing traveller, a while back. It’s the keywork,” she paused, remembering some distant memory of what the keywork meant to her. “It symbolises a connection between all senses, the ability to balance yourself – body and soul…” In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case. After all, when she had chosen the design, she had been mostly intoxicated, and had only picked it as it looked good, and it was the only design that could be done in green ink. But, either way, her attempt to have a reason for the keywork tattoo sounded good enough, and she hoped, for now at least, that Cotl would buy into her excuse. “It is a symbol that all warrior souls should relate to, even ones as fucked up as me…”

She chuckled lightly, hoping to see some sort of humoured reaction from the Inferni male. She enjoyed, for some unknown reason, joking about herself, and whether it was down to some deep seeded dislike for herself, or a myriad of other reasons, it didn’t matter. All she knew was that it put a smile on her face to do it, so she would carry on. Lost in thought, it took a moment to register the fact that Cotl had spoken and left the room. Glancing around, Lucia’s eyes fell atop the burning wood in the fireplace – it was hypnotising, and as she heard his footsteps echoing through the old building, Lucia regained her reality, and watched as Cotl entered, sketchbook in hand.

Smiling weakly, the best she could do without looking like some sort of mutant, the ebony outsider waited patiently for him to reseat and gather his thoughts. Watching through malachite eyes, it was strange how this unusual male could be perceived as almost slightly attractive – and though Lucia would never stray from her lover’s grasp, the thoughts came and went. She always did have a wandering eye. Taking the sketchbook from his hands, Lucia’s eyes fell over it. Lifting a hand, she began slowly flicking through the pages, eating up the artwork with a sharp eye. Some of it, well, she could cringe at the ideas, but others simply stunned the obsidian princess. “These are really good,” she whispered firmly, eyes darting upward to catch a glimpse at the male’s expression. “What is the trade then?” she added simply, attention back on the sketches in her lap. “I have enough cocaine for a small army, so what are your terms?”

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