WHO: Anahita and Charlie WHAT: The latter finds the former. The former is intrigued WHERE: Her tent on the midway WHEN: Late afternoon RATING: TBD
Normally Anahita woke entirely calm. But as the sun rose on that morning, she had an apparent feeling of dread. Not because of anything going on with herself or because of anyone at the carnival...but because of a particular customer of hers that she knew would be coming back that evening. A young woman, likely in her early twenties. She'd come for the start of a tattoo the night prior, and she'd brought her boyfriend along with her. Now normally, having the significant other around wasn't a problem. They would normally just be there for moral support and not be a hindrance. But this particular woman's boyfriend was sickeningly familiar. In fact, had his voice been just a bit deeper and had he spoken Japanese instead of English, she could have sworn that he was a reincarnation (or something of the sort) of her former husband. He'd been controlling and angry and unnecessarily forceful. He'd even forced the girl to change her mind about the tattoo that she'd wanted, stating that having it on her lower back would make her come off as a whore and would make her cheap in his eyes.
Anahita had made it expressly clear that it was his girlfriend's decision, considering that she was getting the tattoo. But he had been adamant...so the poor girl had changed her mind, assuring that everything was alright. To be honest, the tennyo wasn't much looking forward to that appointment later in the day. She felt sorry for the poor girl, of course. But she also didn't enjoy being driven to such anger by a mere human being. As interesting as humans were...she sometimes didn't have the patience.
Trying not to dwell on it, she set up her side of the tent as per usual, knowing full well that Cassidy wouldn't be around until later on because of the sun. And with nothing more to fill her time with, Anahita decided to simply sketch. Time always seemed to pass by faster when she drew, and that instance was no different. Morning drifted into afternoon easily. She perused her sketchbooks, flipping through page after page of drawings she'd completed. It would be carnival hours soon enough and she supposed that a few of the sketches were worthy of being put up among her other tattoo designs. She got to doing that, still paying enough attention if someone came by.