Paint it Black (Invite)

[Roderic]

"Is there?" I ask, suddenly wondering if there was an 'end' for our kind. For the vampire species. Life for us didn't exactly end, so why does anything need to end? Things that ended, or the term end, was a sort of conclusion or final curtain call. I shrug, not really expecting Dominique to answer, I guess it was a rhetorical question of sorts.

She asks me if things are so simple. Why not? I find that women sometimes make things more complicated than they need to be, but in fairness most people do. If you don't need something, just chuck it out. If you don't want it, do the same thing. Get rid of it and don't look back. Once, I had a hard time getting rid of something, but after I looked at things from a logical perspective, and moved past the crap I had been sucked into due to ******* allurists, what I, or rather, what someone else didn't want or need was removed from their life and what I didn't need was removed shortly after. So, I just nod my head.

"Sure." I tell her, thinking about all the ways her tattoo could be removed. If it was even possible. Hell if I know, but it's worth trying to see. I think so. She might not think so, but in the right situation and scenario, I'm sure I could get Dominique to see things my way. "Only way to know for sure, is to try and see." I tell her in a matter of fact tone. That's pretty much my motto in life. Well, more along the lines of...if you want something to turn out a certain way, do it. Then alter a variable and try again. Keep altering until you get the result you want. Along with a few other mottos; Always be ready and willing to get your hands dirty. Don't let someone else do your own stuff. Meaning, just do **** yourself. And finally, don't get fucked.

I slowly open the drawer I was standing in front of to look at the array of tools I had within and then smirked. A hand, my left found the top of the solid wood surface, then pat it. "Take off your shirt and take a seat. But let me warn you...once you're on this bench, you're not getting off until we arrive to the end result that I want." It's not a threat, it's just a simple fact. A solid truth. Which meant we might be in for a long night, or a few long nights.

[Dominique]

The surface beneath her hands was warmer than the inside of her palms. Her fingers inched up with the pressure of each tip. Dark orbs fixed on Ric as he said how it would be. Plain and simple. No need for the debate of this or that or could or could not be. There was only one way to find out. Maybe it was a challenge, maybe it was just as it appeared to be. She eyed him a little longer like she usually did while she made up her mind on someone. In this case it was more to do with her than him. She already was certain about him. He knew it.

HOPE lifted from the work space first. LESS followed suit. Each brushed at the fabric of her shirt as she finally nodded. It was down to what she was going to do. He was ready and so was she. It was time to clean up and move forward. She knew where she was heading. No flowery words or bits of profound wisdom could change it. The journey that had brought her to this point was of her own design and she owned it, lived it. She savored every delight, mishap, victory and setback that came with it.

The sheer black material of the halter top that clung to her was removed with the same ease as if she was about to get ready for a shower or bed. The tumble of the fabric from her fingertips had it float to the chair just an arms stretch from where she stood. The low rise capris that hugged her hips were going to be a barrier that would need to be removed eventually. Once the tie at the front was undone the rock climbing garment was sliding down her legs and pooling over her feet.

Briefly her head disappeared as she bent over and folded up what was added to the top she removed. Now that the area to be worked on was free from any hinderance she pressed her palms down on the surface between the taxidermist and herself. With ease she slid her left hip up and shifted the rest of her body to rely on the sturdy bench to support her.

“Understood.” Her eyes drifted down to the open drawer displaying a variety of tools. Each had a brief assessment before she returned her focus on Ric. “I won’t be getting off until you get the result you want.” She leaned to rest her weight on the palm planted on the hard surface behind her. This gave her the freedom to look at her side and hip. She wasn’t sure how deep it went but apparently that was of no issue to Ric. “Just so you know this isn’t my first trip to this type of rodeo.” Her free hand went behind her so she was relaxed with her legs dangling over the edge on each side of him. “A few capture and releases from Doc prepared me for whatever may come.”

[Roderic]

I wait to see what she does, though I already suspect what she will do. She's a lot like me, which is why we get along well enough. The reason I can tolerate Dominique more than most other women. More than most other people, in truth. Dominique takes off more than I expected her too, and asked her too, but it makes sense. From what I recall, the tattoo is quite large and stretches below the waistline of her pants. I give her props for not trying to get out of the task too easily.

There's nothing perverse or sexual about the whole ordeal. It's work. A task. Something that needs to be done. Something that will keep me busy. I look at each leg that's around my frame, but my gaze doesn't last long on them. They are not the task for the night. They are not what needs work. So my line of vision drops to the tools in the drawer I opened. I look at all of them and weigh the pros and cons. The benefits of one over the other as I think about the words she said about Doc and the task at hand. Where best to start. How to keep things from healing as vampires tend to heal easily. I will have to go deep, through many layers of tissue and muscle. But even then, I'm not sure what will work and won't won't. It will be a lot of trial and error, but she's in it for the long run.

"When we start...was there anything else that you wanted or needed to be removed?" I look back up at Dominique's face, waiting to hear and see if she had any requests of her own to make. My right hand goes to the tattoos on her arms, inspecting them for any imperfections , any flaws that might be allowable for more removal of things. I've not really vocalized my dislike for her tattoos, but it was there. Not because I don't think whoever did them didn't have any talent, but they were too risky in my mind. So, I thought I'd ask, because who knows, right?

[Dominique]

“Keep it neat.”

The inked shadow states it like it will be expected. This was not some intimate moment that she will be gazing with affection at like some sappy teenage who just let the hunk of the month pin tattoo her under the desk in history class. This would be serious lab time. Science at work and she was clarifying despite all of that she was not his lab rat. She was a ***** with a serious set of claws and temper that had no issues meeting him eye to eye if he fucked things up beyond repair. The more she thought about it she could do it but it would take a mirror, a lot of stretching and massive clean up. She trusted him obviously or she wouldn’t be sitting there like a plucked turkey still making noise. If she didn’t she would have been long gone.

“Cut like it’s your *** on the carving board. While your hand moves remember that I will be wearing this a hell of a long time.” Her eyes locked on him. She was serious as a heart attack. “I know there is a lot of color and pattern already going on but don’t sweat over the full canvas. You are working over here.” HOPE folds up four fingers leaving the index finger circling the extensive space he will be working in. “Let’s see how you do with the target and then we can talk about going on from there?”

Ric could dig around in that drawer of his all he wanted but he better have a few capable scalpels worthy of penetrating her when his hand lifted up. He would be going in deep and no second rate butter knife or dollar store nail file was going to cut it. Just to make sure they were on the same page she glanced down as if she was inspecting what he had to work with, which is exactly what she was doing. The whole sterile tools part was an issue for her. Not because she was worried she was at risk or going to die from anything already on the tools he had. It was about attention to details. The artist's pride in their craft and their overall workspace. If it’s messy so is the mind and focus of the one working within it. She wouldn’t have it if that would be the case.

Chocolate orbs assessed the work bench beneath her and the floor. No signs of rust, dirt or garbage. He was gaining points already whether he knew it or not. Not that it would matter to him if he did know. Neither of them were out to impress the other. It was as real as it could ever get between them.

“I am good to go. Let me know where you want me.” She nodded in agreement with her statement. “How about some music for this? Something to fit the next couple hours or more that it will take?”

[Roderic]

I just stare at her as she tells me to keep it neat. I wonder if she's having reservations. If Dominique is scared of what might happen, or scared of letting the past go. Some chicks are. No, a lot of chicks are. They get hung up on that ****. The past. Instead of moving on when it's time to move on.

I wonder what her version of a very long time is. I plan on this lasting for forever, but maybe she doesn't think I'll be able to carry out what I intend to do. And a long time is a week, maybe two. While vampires do heal faster than others, us shadow types tend to take longer at healing and even more so, some of us never heal completely. It was all a big ******* mystery, and human in concept. We're supposed to be the superior race, but we're still flawed as a group.

I feel like she's lecturing me. I think she's worried and starting to have those reservations. I guess I can't blame her, but if she looked around my shop, she would see that if I'm anything, I'm meticulous. Neat. Organized. I see her look at the work station she's on and I shrug. It's clean. Very clean. Once upon a time, when I was a kid and saw that shrink, she told my mom I was obsessive compulsive. Apparently being clean is a disorder. Who knew? I just think being a sloppy twat is unappealing in every shape and form. Society accepts lazy slobs. I would worry about our future as an entire species, but, I can't quite see to muster up any fucks about anyone but myself, my things, Doc, Julby and well, apparently this individual sitting on one of my work desks right now.

"Just lie back. Get comfortable and don't worry. I've never had an unhappy customer." I tell her before moving away from the drawer, to a desk where a computer was at. The latter isn't exactly true, I doubt any of my victim's died happy, but they weren't here to tell the tale, were they? I have 'some' music because I think most of it is garbage. About ninety eight percent of music is crap. I hit the laptop to wake it up from its resting mode and open the music application. "I don't have a lot of music, and I don't have crap either." I warn Dominique as the application opens, my eyes flicking from the computer over to her to see if she's laid down yet. Well, maybe to her what I have is crap, but I don't give a ****. She's in my shop and beggars can't be choosers, can they? I search for the latest album I purchased, and move to a different part of the shop. Where there is a metal cabinet of goodies. The scalpels and the like in the drawer near her will be for the finer parts of her skin, once I get through the first few layers. But I need something bigger, something different. I type in the four digit code and pop the doors open with both hands. She's far enough away that Dominique can't see what's in there due to the distance, the unfamiliarity of the boxes and containers things were in and my own figure blocking the way.

I pull out a large metal tray that had been propped up against the back of the bottom shelf and put it between my right side and the metal door. I start plopping things down on it from the top shelf, the second and the third before one of the doors is creaked closed by my booted foot. I turn, and do the same with that door, only using the underside of my foot before I give Dominique a little grin. On the tray that is a little larger than a thirteen by thirteen, are a few vials of things she won't peg as anything until I either open them, or use them. There are a couple of small, but deep boxes and a sharpie marker. All things for her to see, as I approach Dominique.

The tray is set down on the stool that I pull out with my right foot, the sharpie pulled off and placed on the wooden table. I crouch down next to her, so I'm eye level with the space I'm going to be working on and trail my finger over the hidden tattoo once again. The sharpie is grabbed and I draw four small lines. One above the tattoo space, one below and the others on each side of the tattoo. With that done, the cap is replaced and the marker tossed back on the metal tray. I inch to her shoulders in my crouched position and look her in the eyes. "We're going to begin." I tell her before I stand and head over to my tray of goodies.

Music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-To5dy5q4C8

[Dominique]

“That makes two of us.”

It was a fact. Perhaps she had been lucky or maybe she was just that skilled when it came to her hands and the flesh she worked with. Scarification, branding, tattooing or piercing.Even body modification. She did it all and with increased ease over the last two years since she took up the artform. It was a sacrifice but she stepped over from the walking canvas to the lead artist responsible for permanent design. She didn’t have a hell of a lot of choices considering. When the challenge came to float the responsibility of what was essentially a sinking ship she owned it and made it work.

Dark orbs drifted into the angle that offered up the clearest view of the space that would soon be his focus. While he searches and retrieves what will be used she waits for something to jolt her and make her think twice like it would have in the past. Nothing happened. Not one feeling that would inspire HOPE to reach down and connect with what was about to line the bottom of his wastebasket. The sensation of silk covered skin sliding over the wooden surface beneath her was soft and subtle as if it was only noticeable to her alone. That was until the unmistakable sound of the fragile fabric hitting a snag unseen sending the disturbing ripping beyond her notice. As if that should be her biggest concern. Especially when the taxidermist that was rummaging through the shelves of god knows what started making his way back to the very spot she now was stretched *** and back down on.

“I think you got it.”

Even if there was no need to point out the obvious, she did it anyways. Of course he knew what he was working with. His lines left behind with the tip of the marker reminded her just how extensive the piece was when it was first applied. There wasn’t enough weed in the first twenty four hours to calm that fire. Now she was ready to have it pulled free from her roots and all. Part of it was to see if it was even possible but most of it was about timing. And it was time. Not because he just announced that it was but because she felt it. It was time to start cleaning out her closets. Best place to shed the skeletons was to get through the first layers of skin and work your way down. And that is where Ric was coming in handy. From what she had observed the vampire had a solid set of hands that had no difficulty handling whatever task he assigned them to. No disappointment there whatsoever.

“Yes, we are.” HOPE and LESS lifted and slid in a casual manner behind her neck and interlaced at the fingers. “I am actually looking forward to it.”

[Roderic]

I have it, I know I do. Something in my place of business will achieve the task set forth. It just was based on how long and WHAT tool that would be. I just nod at Dominique's words, indicating that I agree and am sure of it too. When I get her permission, I open a drawer on the left side of the bench and pull out a key chain that wasn't finished yet. Made from the skin of a pig near the southern side of the city. I think Jonah owned the place I got it from, but I can't be sure. I've not seen or heard from that guy in ages. If he's sad about a missing pig, I'll buy him two to get over his crying fit.

I put it down on the side of Dominique's head, indicating it was hers for the taking should she want or need it. I'm not judging. I know it's going to hurt like hell, and I don't have anything here to numb that pain. All my clients are very much dead. The drawer is closed with a short slam to the thing, but then reopened and then slammed again. It sounded slightly uneven. Off it's track the time before. Pretty sure it was.

I look at the array of tools and decide to save the stuff in the bottles for later. As a last resort if need be. My left hand swings back and forth over the top of the tray as I get into the zone with the assistance of the music and the reflecting light that's bouncing from the scalpels and other tools at my disposal. My hand stops above the number seventeen scalpel, before I shake my head and grab eighteen. It's a good place to start as it's designed to scrape the skin and make deep cuts. If not, there are other, bigger choices to use later.

The handle of the scalpel is held with the second, third and fourth fingers. I secure it by the base of the thumb, with my index finger extended along the top of the blade and my thumb along the side of the scalpel's handle. I think this was called 'dinner knife' grip, back in school, if memory served. I very slowly make the first incision at the upper part of Dominique's body-a couple inches from under her arm pit and bring it downwards in a slight arch. When I get to a place where my lines need to be straight, my other hand pulls at the bottom part of this tattoo, making the skin tighter than it normally was for precision. "Let me know if you need a break." I tell her, though the break would not be a very long one. It would be a waste of time, and we only have so many night hours left tonight. I take the cut to the very bottom edge and then make an arch in the opposite way, going up. If this works, it would perhaps be, one of the best, modifications I did to any single thing.

[Dominique]

Dominique would personally rather chew on a stick or a few other things before the pig part. Maybe if it gets to that level of pain perhaps she will ask him to lend her hand if he is willing to put himself out there that much for her comfort. What is the point of worrying over having a few fingers gnawed off for the name of science. That was what it was supposed to be about. Sort of. A lot of it had to do with what she wasn’t. Not anymore. Her eyes glanced over to the offering left by his hand. There was value in it’s presentation. But it was resistable and she left it where it was sitting. It was not only within reach of her lips it was close enough she could smell it. It reminded her she was stronger than the source was.

Dominique would eventually be rising from the table when all was done and she would leave intact minus a layer of flesh. So far so good. It wasn’t like she had lost her skin before. She had been fried to a crisp, skewered, carved and shot into a human version of swiss cheese. The blade splits the skin and her thoughts finally are pulled to what is happening. The firm tug of flesh that barely lifts but enough that the warm air sinks into the cool precise crevice line. She can smell the raw interior of her body as the cloud of obsidian beads whirl over her and around him as well. HOPE reaches up and her fingertips dance and tap at them as they disperse. Another tight pull inspires a burn that comes with the massive section of skin being closer to the process of carving and peeling for final removal. Scarification was one of her specialities back at her shop. At that moment it was fair to say that it was far more comfortable to be on the other side of the scalpel controlling where it went and how deep. No way to deny it as her obliques spasmed with the thought of what would come next.

“I am …”

She caught the rest of her words and swallowed them down. Well, she was good. Then he had to lift more on the armpit to lower hip portion of her side and she realized how significant in size and depth this marking truly was. It had been there for how long? A rush of endorphins raced through her sending her into a growing euphoric state. HOPE and LESS stretched over her head and her fingers curled over the edge of the wooden edge beneath. Tighter they gripped on the work table while her toes flexed and dipped as he continued to work.

“Fine. No need to stop now.” She looked to him and found him through the haze of shadow borne blood. It would be a visual she would memorize down to every minute detail and never forget.”Unless you need it.”

It was only going to get more difficult to hold still. She knew it even if she wasn’t willing to admit it. Her pain tolerance was skyscraper high and it was indeed a pleasure. However, there was no healing on her part taking place. If anything she would be going against the powers she had to do so. Part of the plan for the effective removal was to do more to the area to make sure it doesn’t seal up back to it’s orginal state too quickly.

[Roderic]

I’m paused at the halfway point, waiting for her to reply. I’m positive getting the top two, or three layers; meaning the dermal and subdermal layers of her skin, removed isn’t a walk in the park. But so far, Dominique hasn’t given any complaints or indication that my methodology is a bother. Or the selection of the tool I was using either. Part of me wants to go deeper. Would she notice? Would she make a move or noise that indicated there was finally some pain or discomfort on her end? I fight against my own desire to make this a scientific experiment game gone wrong, and keep it professional. After all, hadn’t Dominique vaguely implied that if I did good, that I might get to do more? I can ‘behave’ for the promise of more.

She tells me she’s fine, but if I needed a break that we could stop on my account. I just stare, and then slowly shake my head. I will not take a break, or think about taking a rest until the task is completed. “No. I require no resting point at this time.” I inform Dominique as I continue, my arm angling just a little as the blade curves upright and goes around the upper part of where her invisible tattoo is at.

About eight, or ten minutes later I curve back around to where it all began and the entire fold of skin is removed. I pull it away from her body, while I stand, and plunk it down on a second crafting bench behind me. It makes a ‘splat,’ sound before it blackens and then vanishes into a burst of shadows, expelling every which way they can before what was once on the table is nothing but a smear of black of once was on it. I wipe at the air, more specifically her shadows, as I return back to her. This helps me clear a pathway for me to reclaim the seat I had just occupied. My head drops to the table, my chin resting on it as I watch the incision area; the exposed fibres of muscle and tissue. I watch and wait. How long does regrowth take on something like this? We’re about to find out, I reckon.

[Dominique]

The beauty of the pain involved was that it transformed from the surface sting to the dull ache of invasive slicing at the flesh beneath. It was attention getting and it was feeding her a buzz of euphoria that nothing she grew on her farm could deliver. Her eyes rolled down as far as they could go. All she could see was his hands. Her head lifted to take in the view of the progress that had been made. This movement of course called for the work of her obliques beneath the work space. The black cloud of her shadow blood was increased as she moved. She dropped her head back down. It was not worth the risk of disturbing what he was doing. Her eyes returned to their former routine of viewing the ceiling.

A customer’s movements was always a pet peeve of hers. It was especially annoying when it came to having an ink gun in her hand and the needle drilling the color beneath the skin while they did. She took pride in her work. Anyone who knew her knew as much she could become irritated and stop the work altogether to give a lecture they rarely had to hear twice. It boiled down to the fact that even if the piece was going home with them it was still her art and it would be linked to her so it was hers indirectly. She said it in so many words. Some got the point others went home with a dismissive wave for being difficult and left to return at a later date when they were ready to take what she said seriously.

Her own technique was soon pushed to the back of her mind when a final cut and the expected pull of a significant section of her skin inspired HOPE and LESS to grip hard on the edge of the table. Her head turned to witness the severed part of her dropping to the crafting bench behind him. After that the swirl of inky blood thickened and distorted her view. The part of her she barely had a chance to see was gone before HOPE could effectively divert the black levitating drops to dance elsewhere.

As soon as Ric sat back down to watch the section with expected focus she tucked her left arm behind her head and relaxed. Wounds like this were the type that took humans weeks upon weeks to recover from. She was doing everything within her power to resist the accelerated healing time that would come to her given her abilities. Friction was one way to slow down the process.

“If you see anything trying to come back. Do mea favor?” She winced as her feet fixed flat on the wood surface beneath her heels and slid upward to stretch the muscles wanting to be used. “Grab some sandpaper and rub really hard and make a wish.”