stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

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

That look, right there on Dorian's comical face was what made that question if he was wanting to get a tattoo for himself, worth it, even if she already suspected his answer. Well, not the part where he admitted he wasn't allowed. It only made it more baffling that he would choose a lone tattoo parlour to duck away in. However, It was the rule that he could not put what he wanted on his own body that surprised her more than that. If he were king, truly king, why could he not just do as he pleased? Was he not the trailblazer to lead the way? How easily rebellion arose within the feisty woman, even in the face of age-old tradition. Especially in the face of that. Why was having something like a tattoo so taboo? Especially now. It was practically commonplace, more so than it had ever been from when she got her first one. How did he manage to live within a life of such stifling rules that seems so much like a barred cage? Yeah, maybe that's why it bugged her so much. His body was his own. What did it matter what he put on it? A public servant or not. Most of her tattoos were barely even visible.

She noticed the light and good-natured smile that tugged upon his lips as though not at all concerned with his predicament. For all she knew, he made those rules himself. Yet there was a question that formed within her mind and just as it did, it was like he could hear it. Or maybe it was simply a common question because he answered it without it even breaching her lips. He claimed that his people's wants and desires overshadowed his own. Did people really care what he put on his body that would be most likely covered up by clothes? It wasn't like he was bound to get a tattoo on his face. A light frown pinched her brow in consideration of his revealing words, her gaze lowered to her own forearm which once had a tattoo before it was carved clean away from her skin. How could she forget, what imposed rules could do? Even though the skin had long since healed into flawless skin, the memory still burned its way into her mind. It was no wonder why she wished to rebel when her own right to do what she wanted to her own body was literally stripped away. Dorian then claimed that he could not adorn himself with such bias which caused the woman to huff out an exhale. Please. How she didn't think it was possible to live without bias! Harley decided to keep that much to herself. Maybe being a king was hardly as liberating as she once thought. However, despite the thoughts that rioted within her mind, her lips instead twitched into an amused teasing smile. She looked up at the Italian man, dressed in that fine black trench coat that always made her think whoever wore it was nude beneath. "A flag." She said abruptly and plainly like it was obvious. "Your country's flag. You said there was no tattoo that could represent them all without bias. Or your country would work too, now that I think about it." Those words were offered with a clearly teasing edge that matched the look upon her feminine features as she pushed away her own bias to tease a king. How his status or whatever, hardly was enough to escape Dorian from Harley's emboldened nature. She wasn't sure anyone truly could. If she could tease monsters, she could surely tease a king. That conversation then shifted, oh how it was very clear that he was so different from the normal clientele that entered this place.

With that sketchbook revealed to her, there was no way she could turn it down to find out what was inside. A glimpse into his art and also into his very life. Harley was certainly not the kind of person to not indulge her own curiosity when it presented itself in this way. The first drawing of a mother and child with the aura of colour around them prompted the topic of auras. But as she flipped through each detailed page, it was quite clear he was good. Much to her own bias... she almost expected him to not be. She knew it wasn't fair to judge someone merely by their status... despite how many people seemed to do the same to her. It was the feeling that she was wrong about someone that made her savour each page, watching as the auras grew in complexity from that first image. Harley admitted her very findings, not a person to keep the credit to herself when it was due. Not when it was so blatantly obvious. He was talented. While he might not be able to express himself through a tattoo, he clearly still found other ways. However, the idea of this king losing himself to his art seemed to make him appear all the more.... Relatable in some vaguely strange way. That compliment, however, seemed to light up his face rather than that pompous arrogance she had seen far too much. " I'm surprised. I honestly expected something more... abstract. For some reason." She admitted honestly, out loud as she thought it before she offered Dorian another question that burned a hole in her mind.

Of all the auras he claimed to see... Could he see her own aura? Right this moment? Of course, it was only natural to wonder. That and it seemed to bother her that he could see the colours that made up her. Hell, she didn't even know she had one on display until today. What did he even see? Angry splotches of red? The darkest of blacks to symbolize her 'decaying' inside? Did she have evidence of some ugly darkness attached to her now? There were days she truthfully wondered. Dorian hardly seemed to look at her like she had something hideous that followed her around. In fact, his warm, gentle smile seemed permanent upon his features.

Her vivacious, violet eyes seemed to narrow upon him as he admitted he could see her aura and yet did nothing to elaborate on it. Begrudgingly, she allowed it to slide. In a way that was clearly intentional, he drew her attention back toward his sketchbook while he spoke about each person and creature displayed on the pages that deserved some kind of introduction. How she took note, studying those unique faces she hardly recognized but it was so blatantly clear that he seemed to take a great deal of care in capturing each one. She could tell because one of his subjects was there, in the flesh. Lucas. Although, she hardly seemed surprised that he announced his husband. They certainly made a cute couple. Yet there was something sinful in that drawn man's expression and how certain that was not done by mistake. Hm. Well good for Dorian. For Harley's jaded opinions, love was love. Even for it to exist around her, was more than enough for her.

Harley seemed to forget all about the thoughts of her creepy aura as she claimed he could make a killing on tattoo portraits. There really weren't enough people who were good at it and it was clear this man had an excellent concept of what a lot of people lacked. It was almost amusing to see just how many times she could bring that look of surprise to his face. He seemed easy to startle. For a king, he surely did not seem to hide his emotions. How quickly he inquired what medium she used for tattoos. If it was merely just painted on top of the skin. She almost couldn't hold back that bark of laughter. Did he truly not know? "Seriously?" Well shit, judging by his expression, it was obvious that the obliviousness appeared to be genuine. This was definitely a first. Usually, people walked in that tattoo parlour with at least an idea of how a tattoo worked.

"Its definitely not paint... its a type of ink. You don't just doodle on the surface, you have to embed the ink into the layers of the skin; any colour imaginable. There is a little needle attached to a tattoo gun, and no before you think it, it doesn't actually look like a real gun. It's designed for the needle to rapidly pierce and push the ink into a person's skin to make it permanent. Of course, there is more to it but that's the general gist of it. It's really not that bad. They bleed a little and some areas are more painful than others, but you just wipe it away and carry on. It all heals well enough if they take care of it. I can show you how it works if you're interested. Its kind of cool." Harley answered as simply as she could, free from her sarcastic ways to turn almost professional at that moment.

Eventually, she returned her attention back to the inviting sketchbook in her hand. On the following page, she was distracted by an all too familiar face upon that page that stared up at her. What the fuck was Matteo doing there? How she almost couldn't keep the strange look of recognition upon her face. He was.... Everywhere. She was convinced. At least it seemed that way. That mention that the man in that drawing was his father. That nearly caused Harley to open her mouth to say who the hell knew what.. but she could see it at that moment in crystal clear focus. It was in the eyes, the jaw... she knew there was a familiarity to him that she couldn't just place. It was more than just him being well known... it was because she was looking at a form of Matteo. Now that was trippy as hell. How could she not see the resemblance before? How was she going to play this off? She scrambled internally for words even if she didn't show it visibly. They looked like brothers.. yes that explained away the look on her face. That's why she openly gawked at the picture and then at Dorian in disbelief. The Italian mercifully didn't catch on, his good boy grin appearing again.

He claimed that the resemblance was where it ended. That they were clearly very different from one another. "Yeah... Tell me about it.." She added wryly. She nearly shook her head in disbelief at herself. "I mean.. that's usually how things go with parents. But I hate to break this to you... but your dad is hot. Really hot." Was it that weird she called his dad hot? Well, he was. Obviously so. "In fact, all the people you draw seem way above average in the looks department. I sense a trend." She hardly stopped that next question what made people's auras harder to read than others? It was decided that the vague topic of auras seemed to be the safest of all subjects.

That and it was fascinating to her, the idea of being able to tell so much about a person with one mere glance. Just how much did those auras show? Was every fibre of the past on display or was it far vaguer than that? Was it like your soul was parading around naked for all the world to see? That particular thought only reminded her of Sly and Mihai, his blazing soul practically paraded around on display with pride since birth. Sly's soul was on fire. She wondered what that meant. Sly was an enigma. The man said it himself. He broke the mould in more ways than even he let on. How she didn't let her mind dwell too much on it as Dorian began to explain the reason why some souls were harder to read. Maybe she would ask him what a fiery soul meant later, surely there was no harm in it. Especially when an expert so easily fell into her lap.

Harley nodded emphatically. "That makes sense. I hope I live that long enough to pull that one off. I live to bewilder." The woman added with self-assured confidence. So many questions swirled within her mind, trying to understand something she wasn't likely to ever grasp. " I see black in this one. Why?" She looked at the slight flecks of black infused within Matteo's unique aura. Of course, Matteo's would be one of the most confusing, while the rest seemed to be far more straightforward. Harley then quietly closed the book with care, offering it a final lingering glimpse before offering it back to its rightful owner. This was Matteo's son. At least one of them. How weird that he would decide to stop in here of all places. It was peculiar at best.

Dorian's attention then shifted back to the artwork that lined the walls. He really was fascinated by it for some unknown reason to her. They had her distinct style and yet those images were quite typical for any tattoo shop. Considering that he had obviously never stepped foot into one, maybe he deserved a little bit of slack. That explanation offered to his question about her art. Most people didn't even consider this art. Even though this was still a form of art at its core. Most of all, people rarely asked her about her personal art or preferences at all. Dorian tilted his head in a manner that almost seemed curious as he gestured to the wall again, asking her about her personal work. "My personal stuff? I don't really put that on display so much. I have some I make with the intention to sell. Some in my room where I tattoo in the back and a lot in my own sketchbooks." Had she been so far taken off guard and distracted by his long and convoluted titles and guard that she forgot her own? "...and I am Not-so-fancy-titled, Tattoo specialist Harley middlename Westward... extraordinaire. But for simplicities sake, just call me Harley." She added with her own personal flair, placing a hand upon her hip that jutted out just a little. How she managed to pull that one off straight-faced she would never know.

In far more seriousness, she inquired what he in turn used for his own inspiration. It was surprisingly met with a thoughtful, courteous nod of is head. Why did he like drawing the auras of his people? He spoke in that same eloquent way he appeared to always speak in, just like how one would think of the kings of old and people from period romance movies. It was effortless too like his words were scripted for a play or something, only he hardly needed a teleprompter for it. What an unusual day this was shaping out to be. She guessed she asked for it, with all the prior declarations to the cosmos of being bored. Of all the times for it to actually answer those pleas.

That explanation Dorian provided was simple. He thought the auras were lovely and beautiful, that's why he liked to draw them because he liked to draw beautiful things. Was he for real? The next thing he was going to say was that he saw the world as a rainbow. What she did not expect was for Dorian to turn the script and offer to draw her in the same breath as something that he would describe as lovely and beautiful. Okay, maybe she could see the charming appeal in how he spoke. She rose a brow as a sound of disbelief fell from her parted lips. Yeah, she was confident in the skin she was in... outspoken and unapologetic in many ways... but she never considered herself... lovely. Lovely was what you called a rose. If Harley was a rose, she was certainly its thorns. Those pretty petals had long since been plucked. The tattoo on her hip symbolized that.

"So you think my aura is beautiful huh? Well, colour me flattered. I can't say I have heard that line before. It's real... smooth..." She searched his face once more. Maybe Matteo had imparted more than he even realized.

"To answer you, and flattery aside... Sure. You can draw my aura. I am a little bit curious about what the fingerprint of my soul even looks like. I.... can show you some of my actual work too, to keep us even, should you like." Oh yeah, she was going to use that one, even if just for fun. It was so unlike how she spoke that she almost couldn't take herself seriously. But did it have to sound so dirty when she said it? Or was she only projecting what was in her gutter bound, innuendo-laced mind? Well, a girl could only try.

She flashed another look at all the guards who hadn't said much else. It was really starting to feel crowded in this tiny space with all the burly, muscley men, despite their polite but menacing quiet. There were enough of them to fill at least half a calendar. " We could do this here or in the room I use at the back if you want, it's way less crowded. You can bring one of your smallest guards if it makes you feel better. I know I'm pretty terrifying, so I get it." Like there was a small guard in this shop. They were all big, especially next to the petite raven-haired spitfire who certainly made up for her lack of height by being larger than life. She just wanted to mess with them a little. Who would Dorian consider the smallest was a whole other matter. That slight smirk etched upon her lips as that iconic sarcasm was used to cover the fact that she might have been slightly concerned with what she might actually find about her mysterious psychedelic aura. But when was a little bit of concern actually enough to stop her?

Harley Westward