For Sist3r_Sin -- The New Tattoo

[red_peril]

Illya's eyebrows raised when Ivan's driver pulled the car to a stop and parked in front of the tattoo parlor. The sign was in Russian. It was not a place for hipsters and tourists to get inked. It was almost exclusively used by the Vor. The man who owned it was an old friend of his boss' from Russia. The driver got out and opened the door. As usual, Illya got out first, and then his employer. In truth they were more than that. By saving the old man's life, he had earned a permanent place in the family.

"Come, you have earned a new mark, Kuryakin," Ivan told him. He followed his boss inside and watched as he greeted the owner, Victor, with a kiss on the cheek and a handshake. "Go, take off your shirt and lie down."

He listened to the two old men talking softly in Russian as Illya went to the table toward the back of the shop and removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Sliding the shirt off revealed his story to everyone who knew how to read it. He laid down on the table on his back, revealing a couple of recently healed scars. One on his chest bisected the crucifix, cutting Jesus in half and angled toward his heart. The other, raked down well developed abdominal muscles on his left side. These were from the knife wounds he had taken for Ivan. His boss sat down in the back in a chair and picked up one of the Russian newspapers lying there.

The tattooist came and sat down by Illya, pulling on a pair of neoprene gloves and looking over the display of prison and military tattoos. The new tattoo would be different. Made with professional ink and the artwork would be better defined. The tattooist cleaned the area around his abdominal scar with alcohol and looked over the space. Unlike American tattooists, he would not be working from flash, but from memory.

Illya relaxed while the artist prepared his inks. Today he would be getting the Ivanoff family crest, held by a bear. A mark that he was a protector of the family.

Comments

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia took a breath, slow and deep as she nodded, purposefully trying not to react. "I understand more than you think, Illya."

She still wouldn't show him the tattoo on her neck, but she put down the sake cup to speak. "I was sixteen when I first met the Vor. Do you know what they like to try and do to sixteen-year-old girls that are alone in their city?" she asked quietly, looking over at him.

[red_peril]

"I believe you do," he said quietly. "Da, I know." Illya could easily imagine it. He'd seen it done to others, and what he couldn't tell her was that it was why he was there. That he was not truly Vor. That he was FSB agent sent to stop the trafficking. To free the girls. He reached over and took her hand, looking into the depths of Sinthia's beautiful brown eyes.

[abyssum_invocat]

She looked down at his hand enveloping hers, seemingly soulless as she glanced down, tilting her head, and back up; there was no spike in her breath, no lift to her heartbeat.

"Then you know that if I'm sitting here I understand," she murmured, picking up her chopsticks. "I appreciate that you're not like the rest of them." That was all she said, and left him to wonder the outcome of the story; Sinthia knew, recalled actually, how that had ended with her burying a stiletto knife into pallid, inked flesh and ripping, feeling the warm gush of arterial blood. Perhaps that would be a conversation they had another time, though.

"I'd still like to see the bear. IF you're still willing to show me."

[red_peril]

Illya nodded. He'd seen that look sometimes staring back at him in the mirror. He let go of her hand so that she could eat. There was more to his own story. Someday, they would discuss it, he was sure. The smile crept back when she mentioned the tattoo.

"I would still very much like to show it to you."

[abyssum_invocat]

"So I should take you to my apartment after this to show you," she murmurs, moving close enough that their elbows brushed even when he'd let go of her hand; she could still eat one-handed, and hadn't meant to make him turn loose.

"I don't live far. Close enough to walk." Even in the heels she was wearing. "Unless that's too forward for you?" It would entail at least tolerating her living space, and the dog therein, long enough for her to unclasp one of her stockings. She hated wearing pantyhose, because they were awkward to get into and clung in strange ways; silk stockings were much easier, even if they meant more layers.

[red_peril]

"I am shocked," Illya teased, but he couldn't help but grin. He liked her sitting close to him. There was something comforting about it. "I would like that. I could show you the finished bear."

He signalled for the Sushi chef and ordered a couple more dishes that they could share.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Of course you are," she replied, though she couldn't help the lingering grin the idea brought along as they ate; the rest of the meal was more lighthearted in conversation, normal things about what they liked or disliked and shared.

When she'd paid--it was no trouble to her to do it--she offered her hand out, palm up, to him.

"Do you want to come with me?"

[red_peril]

"Going home with a girl on the first date?" he laughed, "My mother would be shocked!" But he did take her hand. "Of course I could always tell her that you corrupted me."

[abyssum_invocat]

"If your mother believes I've corrupted you, clearly she doesn't know you well," she teased him, a quick smile flashing around her mouth as he took her hand while they walked.

It really wasn't far to her home; a few blocks away from the museum through very quiet streets--especially for being so close to the Great Park--and through a set of ironwork doors, glass and wood ones, and up the stairs, and there they were. She lived on the top floor of a beautiful near-mansion; her apartment was smallish, but it suited her, airy as it was. "Oh," she said, looking down to get her key, "You don't mind dogs, do you? Avi won't hurt you, but he is rather large."

Understatement. But still.

[red_peril]

"Clearly," he laughed. Though already, Sinthia was having an effect on him. He followed her to her place, walking hand in hand. It felt like the most natural thing. If anything, his mother would have teased him for becoming infatuated with a beautiful woman so quickly.

"Not at all. I love dogs," he said. "What kind of dog is Avi?"

[abyssum_invocat]

"You'll see," she said and merely smiled, unlocking her door and clicking her tongue to call the dog off her bed--it was just left of the door, set back in a little alcove with her dresser. Avi, as it turned out, was a borzoi, lanky and all white with the lightest of gray markings on one eye and ear, and one leg.

"Get down from there, Avi," she murmured as the dog whuffed at her, slinking to the floor to greet his owner. To the new person, he reacted calmly but cautiously, sniffing in his direction as Sinthia stepped around him to let Illya in. There was no moving that animal out of the way easily, not at better than a hundred pounds already.

[red_peril]

When she let Illya in, he stepped sideways a little, then saw Avi. "Oh, Borzoi!" He knelt down, holding his hand out to the dog, palm down. Careful not to make any sudden moves that Avi might think was threatening to Synthia. He'd had occasion where dogs were threatened by his height. "Privet, Avi. What a beautiful dog. I bet you run like the wind, eh?"

[abyssum_invocat]

"Yes, he's a borzoi," she chuckles, shutting the door quietly and moving over to the couch to sit and watch Illya and Avi; the bed is just past it without a wall diving the spaces at all. Straight out from the door is where her dining table is, and beside it a glass wall with doors onto the balcony, only half-covered with long drapes.

"We run in the mornings. In the park, usually, and sometimes I keep up with him." More often she throws a lure for him. "Do you want that I should show you mine first?"

[red_peril]

Once the dog came closer and decided he wasn't a threat, Avi cautiously licked Illya's hand. Smiling, he petted the dog's silky fur. After a moment, he rose and looked around the small apartment. When he had lived in Moscow, a unit this size would have been considered luxurious for a single occupant. His own apartment here wasn't much larger, though it had a separate bedroom.

He joined her on the couch and sat on the opposite end. "Of course, ladies first."

[abyssum_invocat]

She couldn't help smiling at her dog warming up to Illya, sitting down where she could watch them interact. She wore stockings with her clothes, and necessity demanded she unclip one of the silk things from the straps that held it up, but doing so meant either rolling up or taking off her trousers. She hated wrinkles, yes, but she didn't want to scare Illya too badly either, and so she bent down to unclasp the tiny laces holding her heels on.

It didn't take long to push up the material of her trousers until she could unclasp the garter strap, practiced with the metal button end. Sinthia pulled the spun silk off, showing the delicate lines of ink now embedded into her skin at her foot, gracefully printed in handwritten Cyrillic script over her arch. It read easily against the paleness of her skin. "This is one of them," she said. The other, she was unlikely to show him tonight, but she was thinking about it since he seemed so unusual for one of the crowned himself.

But still, she was cautious with what she told him about herself, because even if he was different, he was still Vor. It was still dangerous getting involved with them a second time--given what her interaction with them had entailed before--and she didn't want to run the risk of having to leave the city.

[red_peril]

He hadn't quite expected her to roll up her trouser leg and unclip a silk stocking. Not many women wore those anymore. But they were far more alluring than the ridiculous pantyhose. Illya couldn't help but watch her with interest. Avi came over and watched as well. Then she held her foot up for him to read.

"'Miles to go before I sleep,'" he read the cyrillic. "Oh, that's lovely. I know this poem. It is Robert Frost. 'The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep,'" he recited in English.

[abyssum_invocat]

"What?" she asked, catching him staring at her as she unclipped one of the fasteners. "Why are you staring?"

She hadn't found the stockings that odd; sure, they were less popular than pantyhose since they required more skill to put on than being able to wriggle into them like an exceptionally coordinated fish, but Sinthia had always worn them as an adult. His reciting the poem got nearly her full attention, and she slowly nodded. "I remember reading it as a child. I liked the image."

Avi, being used to Sinthia liking him to keep her legs warm in bed, came over and butted his slender head against her knee with a sedate huff of breath; borzoi were quiet and ninety percent of the time very lazy in their affections, and most likely he wanted her spot on the couch. She merely scratched his chin and murmured to him gently until he settled down under her feet. "I never got to ride a horse with harness bells, though."

[red_peril]

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. I've never seen silk stockings in person," Illya said. Nor that someone would wear them with pants.

"I too read it as child," he confessed. He watched her pet Avi. "I have actually never ridden horse with bells or no." He smiled, "I guess it is now my turn."

Illya took off his jacket and tie, and pulled his shirt front from his pants and unbuttoned it. Lifting up the left side of his shirt, he exposed the completed bear for her. It was a very well done tattoo and the bear is more realistic than many of the tattoos.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Oh," she said, letting out a breath in a laugh. "I've never liked pantyhose. And once you learn how to put them on they're easy enough. You can see them if you like, if you want me to show you?"

This was an entertaining if unforeseen turn in the evening, as he unbuttoned his shirt; Sinthia liked the tie--silk if she wasn't mistaken--and brushed the backs of her fingers over it, liking the feel. "It's beautiful," she said of the tattoo, reaching for it and very gently tracing the lines of the bear;, face falling into that same expression she'd had when studying the rest of his tattoos, analytical and focused. "The bear suits you, you know," she murmured, tilting her head.

"Strong, quiet, gorgeous. Dangerous."

[red_peril]

"That tickles," he laughed a little at her fingers exploring his abdomen. Victor had indeed done a beautiful job with the bear. Illya blushed a little at her assessment of him. He quite liked it. What man would not want to be described in those terms?

"Would you... Would you like to get closer look at the rest of them?" He didn't intend to disrobe entirely. He did want to show her the ones on his back though. Partly because he didn't mind showing off, and partly because he was curious to see if she could really read them.

[abyssum_invocat]

"I would," she answered, without much hesitation and a fair amount of curiosity; she hadn't gotten a very good look at them in the tattoo parlor, and couldn't read them as well as she could have if Ivan hadn't been sitting there. Her mouth quirked up at his admission that he was ticklish; of course he was. It was cute, and that was a word she did not lightly use to describe anyone who worked with or was part of the Vor.

"If you'd like to show me."

[red_peril]

He stood and unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way. Turning his back to her, he let the soft shirt slip down his shoulders exposing the tattoos on his back. Illya looked over his shoulder to see her reaction.

Some of the stories inked on his skin were untrue. He caught himself wishing he could tell her who he really was. To show her his true self.

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia watched the shirt fall away, exposing the story inked onto his back; her eyes glanced over them all, taking in the meanings and what it must have meant for his life. Her hands mapped the inks, tracing from one to another and drawing spidery lines between them as she looked. She was fascinated, it was true, but not out of prurience; Sinthia could tell there was something very different about Illya, not only because of the way he spoke and carried himself but his respect towards her.

"You didn't tell me there were three more," she murmured, getting to the coffins on his arm and pausing over the one with the crest on it, having paced slowly around him to see them all.

[red_peril]

"Da," the bands on his arms were true. While he'd spent several months in the Siberian prison to earn his way into the Vor, he was not proud of what he had to do to succeed. It was a brutal life. He'd had to become Vor at the prison because if you had no ink, you did not exist there.

"The other three were fights in prison." Which were true. You had to defend yourself there or you'd be the one leaving in a coffin. The scar on his neck and the one by his eye attested to that. They had been earned in those fights. "The other arm, are legitimate kills while I was sniper."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Thirteen confirmed," she murmured, nodding. "You were good."

She'd know, and it was incredibly high praise from her, though he had no way of knowing how good she was with firearms yet. "I'm glad you're not there. I wouldn't have met you," she teased, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she reached up to touch the scar at the corner of his eye. "Someone should have been shot for this," she said softly. "You have nice eyes."

She too had few scars--you didn't do what she had for very long without getting them--but they were well-hidden usually, save for one between her hairline and the edge of her eye, cleanly arced like it had been surgical.