stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

Those men stacked with hard muscles and barreled chests that made their way into the too-small-for-this-many-people tattoo parlour to hold them all. Oh, how it seemed to spark an automatic response to bullies and those that thought they could walk all over her. They strut like in like they owned the place. Ugh. It was going to be one of those days, she couldn't have fucked it up better herself if she tried. Yet what was odd for your typical bully was... They ignored her like they were looking for something. Even with all the power and force, their imposing hulking demeanours exuded. These guys would not be easy to force out and yet that would hardly stop her when push came to shove. She already knew how she wanted to deal with them and yet they didn't really do anything.... The woman was torn and worst of all, curious about their presence. What threw her off most of all was the announced king that made his way into her store shortly after. Equal parts disgruntled and flabbergasted, the raven-haired woman was bristling like a cat that had been rubbed the wrong way. Yet, the man that had waltzed into that shop was certainly not at all like what she expected as he seemed captivated by her designs that lined the wall like it was an art gallery and not a tattoo shop. His men quieted down after their sweep of that shop. What in the actual hell was going on here? Who was this guy, really?

Her bright violet eyes were filled with mistrust, an accusation sang between them even though her words were spoken with her usual sarcastic flair. The well-dressed leader of the group seemed focused upon the various flowers that she had as examples, which prompted Harley to speak of a tramp stamp she did only a few weeks back. The man, King Dorian, he called himself seemed puzzled in return. Part of her was glad to return the favour. Who did not know what a tramp stamp was? Was this guy for real? The king looked to one of his men for guidance. Oh, this was going to be good, she could already tell, anticipating it with a slight devious quirk of her lips. They did not disappoint either. But nothing could top Dorian's expression. She swore for several moments he appeared... horrified. His silver eyes found her own, claiming he would rather not. She shrugged her shoulders lightly.

"Not your thing, I get it. I didn't think so." She uttered, amused that something so small seemed to rattle him. Her humour it would seem was lost with this one. A burning question could be seen within those vivacious violet eyes instead of chasing them out. No, it seemed she had a little time to entertain this strangeness that had found itself within her store. At least for as long as they played nice. Although with so many people, it felt like two full-sized elephants crammed into that open foyer. The one explanation he offered was not one she quite expected out of all the things she had imagined. Her quick sarcasm was quick to spark in regard to the whole entourage situation he had going on. He certainly must have found it difficult to make friends. Not when that human wall of muscle made damn sure to be a buffer at all times with the exception of that very moment. Dorian seemed to confirm as much, claiming that friendship and conversation were difficult. Oh gee, she wondered why. One glimpse of his gang and it was surely enough to keep most people away. They looked intimidating even with those casual clothes that surely were not fooling anyone, least of all, her. Their watchful gaze and imposing bodies clearly riddled with concealed weapons, although they looked more like weapons themselves, she was certain. Who knew what unpleasant magic they had up their sleeves too. She was not all surprised that it made regular conversation hard.

Yet that hardly explained why he was here, why come to a tattoo shop unless you planned on getting a tattoo? Another question left her lips, an obvious one, at least to her. Maybe they all wanted matching tattoos or something.

It was Dorian's formal reply that caused a frown to form at the mention that he was not permitted to wear tattoos. "You can't even choose what you do to your own body? Kind of defeats the purpose of being king, doesn't it?" If the invaders weren't here for tattoos either, what were they even there for? That Dorian guy didn't even seem to acknowledge her sarcasm or the humour that lingered behind her words. No, he clearly did not get out much at all. He really needed to get out more.

It was revealed that art was his main motivation for their intrusion. That sketchbook he pulled out was eyed with a new sort of curiousity that seized the woman as he admitted that his sketching had been unsuccessful. A sound of disbelief escaped her lips, if this was considered bad, she would like to see his art on a good day. Ignoring the group of guards that seemed to watch the were-feline's every move like she was a threat in her own damn place, she naturally reached out to touch the corner of that sketchbook that Dorian had pulled out to show her. Even she could sense every guard seem to shift defensively and yet she remained exactly where she was as she studied that artwork he did that day. Alright, even she could appreciate talent when she saw it. He offered her a flash of a smile at her comment, and their eyes met. That compliment spoken along with wondering what the splash of colour was. There was something familiar about this guy's face, his eyes especially and yet she was certain she had never seen this Dorian before. He claimed the colours were their souls. Any kind of distracted thoughts of familiarity fled. Hmm. Did that mean he could see her aura/soul thing, right this second? He didn't act like he saw anything weird about her or attached to her. He seemed oddly kind... soft-spoken and gentle as he offered her a chance to peruse his sketchbook. How could she say no to that offer with that selfish desire to take a further glimpse took hold?

"Yeah, I'd like to have a little looksie." She accepted that opportunity. "It's a really interesting ability to see people's auras like that.. I didn't realize they looked like colours.. It seems like a good way to detect bad people.. wait second, you can see mine? Right now?" Ok that was freaky to think of. Weirdly psychedelic if people had a bunch of colour surrounding them. Did that mean she had a trippy colour trail following her around and she just couldn't see it? Did that mean he could see what kind of person she was? A frown formed upon her features. If hers had been bad... Would it be staring him in the eye right now, like it was glaring at him like some outcast reject with a bad attitude?

He relinquished the book into her hands and began to flip through those pages. She felt kind of like she was sneaking through someone's private secrets and how she actually didn't seem to mind. He did offer after all. He honestly was good. There were a lot of animals and flowers, no wonder why he looked so mesmerized by those tattoo-style flowers on her walls. She allowed herself to rove over every page, her fingers oddly delicate with the pages as she turned them. There was a hidden respect for someone's personal art book, it was like unspoken law between artists. It was more than a mere sketchbook, it was almost like a diary in a way. But what truly captured her attention were those people he chose to draw. It wasn't just a picture either, he seemed to capture emotions in those drawings, essences of those people that were likely distinctly them.

Dorian remained close, content to share details on who each being was. The butler, the burly guy named Lucas who was apparently the lead guard from what she could tell. She noticed how he seemed to stand up a little straighter as Harley compared the sketch to the man himself, lowering and raising her gaze, peering through the thick black lashes. She commented that it truly looked like him... all the way down to the eyes. Page after page. Dorian's accented voice calmly spoke above the sound of each page turning. Next was his PA. His husband. Which wasn't all that surprising. It was like a glimpse into his personal life. She almost wondered why he would even choose to show it to her? She was a stranger after all and he seemed almost eager and comfortable to do so. She could tell each sketch was done with care. "I bet if you wanted to learn a different medium you could make a killing as a tattoo artist who specializes in making portraits, there aren't enough who are good at it." Portraits on skin were a totally different animal after all. A king and a tattoo artist, now that would be something.

But it was when she flipped over another page, recognition struck her. It was like looking at a photograph. She would recognize that face anywhere. Alright, now she was certain of it. Matteo was.... everywhere. How one look alone saw his very personality that seemed to dance impishly off the page. That likeness between the man in the sketchbook and Dorian himself was striking. That was when it hit her hard. Father. HE was the Dorian in the tattoo. But the accent was not nearly anything like the French accent of his father. That was probably what tripped her up. She was usually so good at faces. Damn. Of course, she shouldn't have been surprised that Matteo was somehow involved, even indirectly. He seemed to be the epicentre of all things..... weird.. and this was certainly really weird.

Harley almost missed everything else Dorian had said after that something.. something.. grandfather.. Hard to capture. The aura around Matteo looked complex. So many intermingling colours danced around him in complexity. How she seemed to linger on this page longer than the other ones.. Well this... made things kind of weird. Oh yes, the vow of silence via pinkie swear. She tried to disguise the sound of disbelief with a shake of her head. "That's your dad?? You look two look like brothers." Yeah, that was a relatively safe comment. "Why are some more difficult to read?" How was this very politely, well-spoken man next her the offspring of Matteo? She could barely wrap her head around the king thing and truthfully, even though she entertained it, it didn't quite truly sink in. Not that she would have acted much differently. She stared at Dorian like she could peel off some of that façade and see a little bit more of his father poking through. They definitely shared a resemblance, the jaw.. the eyes... maybe even the hair if they styled it the same way.

She called him Dorian and he said she could call him that if she desired. If she desired, huh? Her lips quirked upward in some secret grin. Oh, she enjoyed hearing him talk.. She offered him his book back as she assured her that his guards would not jump at her.. well that painted a funny picture. It was the following question that caused her to raise a brow. What inspired her?

"Yeah, those are quite a bit varied because people are varied.. You know, different strokes for different folks." She shrugged her shoulders softly before continuing. "What you see there is just an example of what I can do. I don't know if I would say I was inspired. They were fun to make, I will give you that. You can walk into any tattoo parlour and see these themes just about anywhere, there are only hints of my style in each drawing. What inspires me with my own personal art? It stems from my experiences. How I see the world. My own beliefs and thoughts dictate what I draw. In the tattoos that I make other people, I merely try to interpret theirs. Think of it.... like a commission. It's just my canvas usually ends up being skin." She eyed him curiously before prompting his question right back at him.

"Are capturing those auras what inspires you?" She inquired in return shortly after.

Harley Westward