Ophelia (tempestophelia) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2011-02-24 15:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-08-10, lauren |
her loss, my gain
Who: Ophelia and Lauren
When: Mid-morning
Where: Wildfire Ink
The day after the demon attacks had dawned clear and sunny, something Lauren was choosing to take as a good omen despite the fact that the previous day when the main shitstorm went down, it was also clear and sunny. But with the sudden turnaround of angelic vengeance on the demons attacking worldwide, Lauren didn’t feel so bad about going out. The news had hit like a hammer to the side of the head - sure, people knew the various bloodlines present in everyone today had to come from somewhere, but Lauren had never really put a lot of thought into the actual existence of angels. Much the way she’d never thought much about demons before they’d started showing up in Scarlet Oak to terrorize the place.
She knew she was still taking a chance going outside, sure. But with the chances of death or dismemberment much decreased, it was a chance she was willing to take. Lauren needed to keep the shop open as much as she could; between the demons and the weather, she was closing more often than she was open, and while she wasn’t in trouble yet, a little longer in that pattern and she was going to have trouble making rent. Her artists were dropping like flies, too - she’d never had all that many, being a small town the way Scarlet Oak was, but after the round of resignation messages that had come through on her voicemail this morning, she was down to one.
There was a small crowd on the sidewalk as she approached her shop; she didn’t think much of it until she caught sight of what they were staring at. Wildfire Ink - or what remained of it, anyway. It seemed like the demons had gotten frustrated with the lack of humans to play with, or maybe they’d done it just for fun. Either way, her shop was trashed - the door was busted in, the windows were broken, and when she pushed her way to through the small gathering of people, she saw that the inside had been more or less totally destroyed - broken furniture, busted down walls, machinery and supplies lying in pieces everywhere.
Lauren really wanted to have a fit of her own, maybe kick a few walls that were still standing, but she wasn’t about to do that in front of the spectators. So she contented herself with a low but extremely heartfelt, “Son of a bitch,” and pulled out her phone to start taking photos of the damage for the insurance company.
When Lauren arrived, Ophelia was among the crowd of spectators at Wildfire Ink. Well, sort of. The angel still hadn’t slept (sleep? Who the fuck needed sleep? She’d done enough of that in Celestia. She was back in the realm of caffeine, sugar, and uppers, goddammit, and she was of a mind to use them all until she crashed), and when morning came, she had taken to exploring the township. She was getting a good feel for things, and already felt a few very specific pulls that would require looking into. Her attention had been grabbed, however, when she came across an utterly thrashed tattoo parlor. One that was going to take a lot of work to get functional again.
It made her feel like such a vulture, but she couldn’t say she was disappointed. This may end up working out rather well for her. She watched the woman step inside and start taking pictures. She wasn’t one of hers, but something registered as different in some way. She couldn’t place it. “This your place?”
Lauren paused from photographing the destruction to glance over at the woman who'd spoken. Average-looking rocker chick, lots of piercings, pretty sweet art. In short, the sort of person who didn't look at all out of place hanging around a tattoo shop. She wondered if the woman had been a potential client, and then wondered how said maybe potential client felt about garage tats. "What's left of it," she said ruefully, trying not to curse again. "It explains why all my employees save one resigned this morning." Or so she thought, though she would've hoped that at least one of them would've thought to mention that her fucking shop had been destroyed.
"I hate to say it," she said with a grimace, "but if you're looking for work to be done, you're probably going to have to head into Ann Arbor for it. This is the only shop in town - or was, at least - and repairs are going to take a while, as you can see." Son of a motherfucking bitch. Thank god she had insurance, but she didn't even know if all the repairs were going to be covered. What category did demons fall under, anyway?
Ophelia couldn’t help but smirk. She tried to keep it to a less-bitchy minimum, but it was just too appropriate. “Actually, I’m setting up shop in town myself. When I saw the mess, I thought I’d drop off my information in case anyone wants to look into taking some space. Until your place is back in business, of course.” Of course, if said employees happened to like her place better, hey, that worked too. “It sounds like you hired a lot of assholes, though.” Then again, Ophelia found she worked well with assholes. She was occasionally told that she was their queen. She was okay with this. “I just got into town yesterday. Great timing, I know.”
"Yeah, really good timing," Lauren said. She was suspicious for a brief moment - what where the odds that a woman opening a tattoo shop showed up on the day her shop got destroyed? - but dismissed it as just really strong coincidence. She shrugged then. "They're cool people," she said, referring to her employees, "and good artists. I can't blame them for wanting to get out of town after something like this. If I wasn't the stubborn type, I might be tempted myself." But she wasn't done with the town, and no damn demon was going to chase her out before she was good and ready to go.
"I'm Lauren, by the way," she said, reaching out for a handshake. "Lauren Cooper. I'd totally be down with taking a chair for a bit while I get everything sorted out here - if you want, I can pass it on to my lone remaining employee, too." She wanted to look after the one person who'd stuck by her; if the other people found the shop and wanted jobs, they'd just have to be looking for themselves. She didn't blame them for leaving, but she didn't have to like them for it, either.
“Ophelia Keveron,” Ophelia introduced herself, giving the girl’s hand a firm shake. “I’d appreciate that. I won’t be ready to open for a few days, but... I have a feeling it’s a few days earlier than this place will be.” Given the fact that it had things like windows, doors, and oh yeah, still-standing walls already. Those were all awesome things to have in a business that required a clean work-place. “Y’all still got portfolios? Or did they trash those?”
"Nice to meet you," Lauren said as they shook hands. "I don't doubt you'll beat me to the finish line - I've got to go home and dig up insurance information before I can even get anything started." If demon-related damage wasn't covered under her policy, she... had no idea what she was going to do, actually, but as it would probably involve quickly finding another job, she was going to go with the door that was opening in front of her face.
"We had them," she said, turning towards where the main counter had been before being reduced to shards and splinters. "Right about... here." She used one boot-clad foot to knock aside sheets of wood, under which were the torn-apart remains of the portfolios. The photos and sketches had been in page protectors, of course, so some of them were intact. Lauren scooped up what she could, sorting through them. "These are mine, and these are his," she said, handing over a few examples, separated into two. "I've got a copy of mine at home and I'm pretty sure he does, too; I can get mine and drop it by later if you want."
Ophelia crouched down next to Lauren as she took the sheets to carefully look them over. She found Lauren’s to be slightly more impressive, which was a curious thing. Ophelia didn’t see a single spot of ink on the woman’s body - not that that meant much. Most of Ophelia’s ink was covered by clothing on a normal day. “I’d like to see that,” she said. “You’re really good. Been here long?”
"Thanks," Lauren said. "I've been here a couple months; the original owner of the shop had to bounce. I was already working here, so I took over. Was going pretty well until this shitstorm started taking over." Demons and natural disasters and god only knew what came next. She wondered how Scarlet Oak was still standing, sometimes, and that was just a few months. It'd be interesting to see how the town would look in a year, if things kept going the way they were.
“Parlors are tough places to ward from demons,” Ophelia commented with a shrug. “Too little and it does little more than alert the fucks to the fact that magic users dwell here. Too much, and any demonic-blooded clientele can’t stand to come to the shop anymore.” It meant one had to get really fucking creative. Not that Ophelia minded really fucking creative. Thrived on it, actually.
"You sound like you speak from experience," Lauren said, raising an eyebrow. That was interesting - she'd never thought of the effects of a warded shop on demon-blooded clientele. Then again, she'd never really thought all that much about the type of blood her clients had. She mostly cared about whether they were good tippers and repeat clients. Beyond that, it wasn't such a big deal as long as they didn't bring whatever trouble they might have going on into her place. Being a closeted supernatural herself, she definitely empathized with those who stayed in the dark.
Ophelia shrugged. “Some,” she answered. “Guy I worked with in Detroit, who I did my apprenticeship with, he was angelic blooded. He tried blessing the place one day and he ended up losing quite a few regulars. Had a bitch of a time trying to figure out how to magically undo that shit, too.” It had been a learning experience, that was for sure.
"Sucks," Lauren said. "Did he manage to undo it?" Leaving the remains of their portfolios with Ophelia, she stood and circled the shop, taking photos of the damage. It had been a fairly open floorplan to start, but the huge holes in what remained of the walls made it easy to keep talking while she worked. Thankfully, the crowd seemed to be dispersing a little - nothing more interesting to see than rubble and a couple of chicks walking around in it.
“Took him the better part of a year,” Ophelia answered. “It was back in the day where none of this shit was out in the open. You had to be real careful about who you trusted with that sort of information.” Ophelia had not adapted to the Light of May mindset overnight, and she reckoned she wouldn’t. She was playing the part, but deep down she always felt like she was giving away far more information than she needed to.
"So you were in the know before the big reveal came around?" Lauren asked, picking up on that. It'd sounded like she'd experienced the warding snafu in real-time, not secondhand wondering why the regulars stopped coming by. That was interesting, but not all that interesting. She hadn't actually had proof of the existence of any other type of supernatural before May, but having her own type of magic had made her believe that there were others out there. Light of May had been more of a confirmation of what she'd already suspected more than an outright revelation. "Depending on the situation, you've still got to be careful." She didn't tell anyone what she was, and she knew she wasn't the only one.
Clever pick-up, that. Ophelia nodded. “Far as magic went, yeah.” And, okay, a ton of other shit, too. Hard not to be in her case. “I’m always careful,” she confirmed. “But nowadays no one even really bats an eye at the thought of warding. Never thought I’d see the day, honestly.” She still wasn’t sure how she felt about it. The idea was good in theory, but she couldn’t help but feel like it was the kind of thing humans were destined to fuck up eight hundred ways to Sunday. And that was if she tried to be optimistic about it.
"Do you practice?" Lauren asked. She'd considered not asking for a minute - making the first move opened herself up to return questions that she couldn't dodge without looking shady - but it wasn't intrusive, as questions go. Only asking if she did any magic. There weren't a lot of people who could say they hadn't tried, she didn't think - witchcraft being something that a lot of people could learn if they worked at it. Why not try to give oneself an edge up in a world where the supernatural was revealed to have been real all this time? She might have been tempted, if she didn't have enough to do with her skinwalking. She gave Ophelia a crooked grin. "You're not the only one," she said. "I don't think anyone ever thought they'd see the day when everything was all mingled together, regardless of whether or not you were in the know beforehand." She straightened, turning off her phone's display and sticking the device back in her pocket. "And I think that's about as many photos as I can get without crossing into overkill."
“Yes, I do,” Ophelia answered. And this wasn’t a question she minded answering - it would have come up eventually. “Actually, if you come to work for me, you should know there will be a lot of magicking going on in the shop. I specialize in warded and spelled tattoos. Unless a lot has changed in two years, there’s not a hell of a lot of people who have figured out how to do it, and it’s going to be a big draw. Hopefully, you’re okay with that.” She smirked as Lauren went on, deciding from the way she chose her words that she had been ‘in the know’ herself. She decided not to ask how - not now, anyway. She was already appearing enough of a vulture for one day.
Cool that she'd come out and said it without any big deal. Last thing Lauren wanted to do was piss off the woman who was going to be giving her loaner space to keep working in while she figured out what the hell to do to get her own place squared away. "No shit, warded and spelled tattoos? Yeah, I'm cool with it," she said, interest sparking in her eyes. She'd never heard of that, actually, likely because she'd never been in supernatural tattoo communities before. Just humans who thought that the supernatural was shit for fiction. "What kinds of stuff can you do with that?" She wondered if there was big demand for that - and whether or not she should try to learn magic and see if she could do it, too.
“There’s endless potential in it, really. Almost any ward out there can be done, at least in a simpler form,” Ophelia answered. “I’d imagine blessings are gonna be really popular, with all this demonic bullshit going on. Protection wards, don’t see me wards, all kinds of stuff. I used to see a lot of elementals looking for permanent wards against their opposing element. It doesn’t mean invulnerability, not by a fucking long shot, but that kind of shit can take some of the sting away.”
"That's... really awesome," Lauren said, impressed. She was going to have to see if she could learn how to do that. She was already thinking of the potential applications to herself - protection for sure, maybe something to help her be a little more obscure? She'd have to look into the varying types of wards out there to see what she might want to think about taking advantage of. "Does it require a specific design, or can it be worked into any piece? And can you do it over preexisting ink, or does it have to be a fresh design?" She didn't want a ton of tattoos - shit like that showed up in her fur or feathers when she was skinwalking, and the small feather on her hip was pushing it enough with certain animals. But if she could have something worked into the feather, well, she might have to look into that.
“A lot of the answers depend on the specifics,” Ophelia answered, setting down the remaining portfolio pages. “If I can find someone to spell the ink itself, or it’s a magic I’m capable of, it can go into anything. Otherwise it requires specific markings, but the ink doesn’t have to be visible. I’ve done it with UV ink a lot - that’s a pretty bitchin’ effect, in all honesty.”
"That's definitely awesome," Lauren agreed. She wasn't sure how UV ink would translate to her particular circumstances or if she wanted to risk it, so if she decided to do something to her existing tattoo, she'd have to hope Ophelia could get spelled ink. Or that it was something she could do on her own. "I might end up being one of your first customers, when you get your place open," she admitted. As well as one of her first (albeit temporary) employees.
Ophelia grinned, and pulled a paper and pen from her jacket pocket. “Tell you what, if it’s nothing too big we’ll put it on the house,” she offered. She scribbled down the address, as well as her name, and offered it to Lauren. “I don’t have a phone yet. Haven’t been able to get one the past few days, for obvious reasons. But drop by any time and we can work out the details.”
"Cool, thanks," Lauren said. She took the paper and glanced at it before folding it up. She pulled out her wallet from her back pocket and slipped it securely in, pulling out one of her cards that she handed over in return. "That's got my cell on it. Well, and the shop's number," she said with a grimace, "but I think it's safe to say that one's out of order for a while. But I've usually got my cell on me." Putting the wallet away, she held out her hand to shake again. "I'll get those portfolios together and drop by in a day or so, then. Thanks again for the help; it was good to meet you."
“Good to meet you,” Ophelia echoed. She hated to be a vulture, but damn if it didn’t work out well. And she was feeling reasonably confident that she was able to function in society without revealing that she hadn’t been a part of said society for two years. Not a bad thing. “I’ll see you then. Good luck with... all this,” she said, pausing to look around the shop. She was of the opinion that it would be a lot less hassle to just come work for her permanently, but that was definitely being a vulture. She’d keep that little gem to herself. For now.