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alderwitch

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About alderwitch

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  • Birthday 01/14/1980

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    Portland, OR

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  1. Still Standing

    Ray let his shirt drop down with the same sort of casual ease that he'd raised it. "Well, for a first tattoo, I'd suggest starting small, especially since it'll be a bit of an experiment and tinkering to see what works on your skin, and what doesn't. You can always add on if you love it. And if you hate it, its a lot easier to have it removed if its small - or have it covered up." Shifting his grip on her hand gently, he flipped her wrist over. "You could get something small, here. The skin is sensitive but I'm always fond of the inside of the wrist for delicate, personal tattoos." With his free hand, he traced one fingertip over the inside of her wrist, sketching out a few quick lines to elaborate on his point, "I wouldn't rule out flowers, either, they clearly have been an enormous part of your life. Flowers don't mean trite design; a water color blossom, maybe. Something without dark outlines." He was clearly starting to turn over ideas in his mind for his sketchbook, only to realize that he'd forgotten to answer her question. "Well, it was London in the 1980s and there was a huge skinhead movement. Union Jack tattoos had a rather unpleasant side association, and the art was only really starting to become more acceptable. I didn't want anything that would be along those lines - obviously - but I wanted something to remind me where I started."
  2. Still Standing

    He touched her wrist with surprising gentleness, although perhaps not all that surprising. He had to have a deft touch to do the art that he did, but it was out of keeping with the appearance that he presented, certainly. Cupping her hand with one large palm, he ran his other fingertips over the back of her hand lightly, testing the skin. "It's better to wait," Ray offered his opinion, his gaze still down on her hand and a small smile curving his mouth. "Even if it goes against my professional interests, I always tell clients that if they're serious about a tattoo, especially the first one, they should pick a design and give it a year before inking it into their skin. Most people aren't all that patient, though." Ray rubbed his thumb thoughtfully across her knuckles, half his thoughts still running through what he might be able to use to ink her apparently impervious skin, but he was listening enough to catch the interest. "The first tattoo that I did is on my thigh and its terrible. The shading is inconsistent. It's a bit of a mess, but something of a right of passage." Shifting in his chair, he lifted his shirt up high enough to display his ribs, and in among the more brightly colored tattoos from his magic, inked along the side of his ribs was an architectural drawing of the tower of London bridge, faded but elegant with the sharp, clean lines, "That's the first one I had done, not that long after I got this body." Ray chuckled as he let his shirt fall. "I did NOT wait a year, for the record."
  3. Still Standing

    "Thank goodness. This is the only look I have," Ray replied with a grin as he twisted to face her, hooking his boot through the stool to keep his balance. "There are a handful of tattoo artists that work on metahuman or supernatural skin globally. Now THOSE are entertaining consultations. Do you mind coming over here to let me take a look?" Ray held one tattooed hand out for her to take if she was willing to cross the space to do so. "I use all sorts of things - and I always enjoy the challenge of a new case. I tattooed a demigoddess once. I've done skin, scales, feathers, chitonous plating." Ray kept up the conversation, partially out of habit for making clients feel at ease, and partially because he was genuinely warming to his topic. "You sound like you'd be a tough one. Honestly, the trick isn't marking the skin, so much as finding something that will work to fix the images to the skin that won't cause other adverse reactions. Not everyone is excited about scarification - I've done that too but I don't particular care for it. Piercings as well. You become a bit of a jack of all trades as there's so few people working in the field. Most of my work done required ritual and magic to stick." He grinned up at her, reaching out to encircle her wrist, "A nuclear blast would probably atomize my body, but I'm sturdier than the average mortal. Susceptible to the unholy, like most of my kind, but I wouldn't try to tattoo myself with it. I imagine the allergic reaction would be unpleasant to say the least. Tattoos aren't out the window, did you have something in mind?"
  4. (IC) Pop Quiz: All You Have Is Your Fire

    Robin did not back down at the threat of a gun pointed in her face, and the tension in her jaw had more to do with keeping her gaze from darting towards her friends, and staying trained on the man with the guns. Her hands were curled, held loosely at chest height and her stance was wide but relaxed. It wasn't recognizable as any particular style but her friends, at least, would recognize it as Robin's 'ready' stance from which she was only a moment away from bursting into movement. The advantage of her catch-as-catch-can training was in not being immediately identifiable, though any professional would likely recognize the skill backing it up. "Home soil?" Robin wanted to know without taking her even grey-eyed gaze from the group's leader, narrowing, "...are you strengthening the connection between Riley's world and ours?" It took a lot for Robin to sound horrified but she remembered the Goodman building massacre, and having to deal with clearing it. Hell, she'd almost died that time. Her voice was flat, "Are you insane!?"
  5. Still Standing

    "I'm not really much of a team-sort of person. Most of my work was a solitary sort before I decided to embrace the whole 'tortured artist' routine." Ray said with a small smirk at his self deprecating comment. He dropped onto the stool, one long leg stretched out absently. He'd clearly picked out the chair as it accommodated his height. "Not as busy as you think. It's a little like a hair salon, people rent chairs so mostly I tend to be a warm body for the occasional walk in but I don't really like doing the same tattoo on some drunk college student. My last apprentice graduated to doing his own clients, so I'm at loose ends. Hence..." He waved one hand towards the fresh mural. "...Idle hands and all that. I have a few weekly volunteer appointments that help at least." Ray grinned, "If I hadn't been bored, I'd probably have been able to muster an excuse instead of trooping down to the headquarters today."
  6. Active Threads for November 2017

    Bombshell (1) Interceptors: Sounds Of Silence = 1 Posts Nighthawk (5) (IC) Pop Quiz: All You Have Is Your Fire = 4 Posts Interceptors: Handclap = 1 Posts Phantom (2) Rebirth = 1 Posts Et In Arcadia Ego = 1 Posts Vignettes: Psyche Bombshell Nighthawk Guide Point to Renegade please! Could you please buy the boost off of Psyche with 25 of her unused power points? Thanks!
  7. Still Standing

    "I think there's very little that I can offer the League that isn't already covered," Ray replied pragmatically as he cupped his hands around the mug. He didn't add anything to his cup, drinking the coffee black. It was absolutely an acquired taste but with a tendency towards odd hours, he'd learned the value of caffeine. "It takes a very peculiar sort of case for my particular expertise to be of any real use, really. The sort of problems that I can be of any help with don't usually make it into the League's stratosphere of problems to worry about. I do the occasional demonic possession or handle a particularly obstinate poltergeist for locals, but unless it happens to be very specific questions about angelic politics, there's not much I could provide that isn't already well known to the League members that handle that sort of thing - and honestly, most angel things should wait until Heyzel is around. I'm only liable to make any sort of discussions more strained if there's some sort of fracas with the assorted heavens." Ray gave a phlegmatic shrug, looking unconcerned with his status in the grand scheme of things. His smile was lopsided, "I am very used to being a small fish in a large pond. I'm comfortable with it.
  8. Good Company and Good Cheer [Open]

    "My hero," Robin grinned at Riley, leaning into the kiss on her cheek. Curled into one corner of their booth, she'd been watching the match with interest and no small amount of pride. She was smiling, her dark curls piled up on her crown in twists and the brand new wine colored sweater complementing her dark skin. It might have been the softest thing that she owned; it was certainly the warmest, and thus far it was definitely Robin's favorite Christmas gift although the sturdy boots she was wearing under the table were a close second. "I always treat you nice," she pointed out as he scooted into the booth to join her. Robin would likely avoid the bar games as unless it was a meta human, it was probably highly unfair, and if it WAS one of the super human friends, they'd not exactly keep a low profile.
  9. Still Standing

    The tattoo shop was warm, since most of Ray's clients ended up having to disrobe at least partially for the process. Ray slipped his jacket off, slinging it over the back of the chair at the counter as he headed into the back to start the coffee maker. Without the jacket it was clear that his tattoos covered both arms and up under the line of his shirt, running up the back of his neck and into his hair line along his spine. Ray glanced over towards the mural, "Thank you," he replied automatically before admitting, "I don't know if I'll finish it before I start over this time. I was leaning into the whole neighborhood feel these days but I'm not sure I'm happy with it. I'm never really happy with it. That's probably the eleventh or twelfth piece I've stuck on that wall without being satisfied. The nice thing about working in tattoos is that I really have to commit to making something there. It's not my strong suit." Ray volunteered conversationally from where he made up two mugs of coffee, bringing them back over towards the counter at the front that held the register. "There's sugar and creamer that my employees have steadily scavenged from the coffee shops below the counter if you need either. So, how is it working in the big leagues? Is it as much bureaucracy and politics as it seems like?" Ray asked the last with a grin.
  10. Still Standing

    That surprised a laugh out of Ray. He glanced down at the tattoos, "Enough to know the gist. These are very different from the Polynesian designs that Maui sports... and have no personality of their own. Which is good, really, the last thing I need is something that gives me sass inked onto my skin." Still chuckling, Ray leaned forward to pay their driver as the cab pulled up alongside one of those trendy, shop-lined streets of downtown Riverside. Ray's shop was within walking distance from the university, so Eternal Ink was tucked in between a variety of hipster-friendly stores, much as he had warned, and book ended on his block by competing cafes. "You're never going to find parking, just pull over there," Ray pointed towards a delivery spot and opened the door to let both himself and Stesha out. She had time to take in the brightly lit glass storefront that provided a window into the clean parlor. There were a few stations inside, all of them standing empty, and a hand lettered sign hung on the door to signal that the store would be 'open later'. Reaching into his pocket, Ray fished out a ring of keys to unlock the shop and held it open. "Come on in. Did you want tea, or coffee?" Ray invited. The most noteworthy feature was the in-progress mural along one-wall that had faint signs that it was not the first mural to be painted onto the wall as there had been several as Ray decided to paint it over and start again. This one was music inspired, with swirls of notes and instruments, and the occasional silhouette of musicians or dancers in motion.
  11. Still Standing

    Ray watched the flower grow with an artist's appreciation but no noteworthy awe. He was well aware that the flower was as much effort, if not less, than it took him to summon a little ball of light for Stesha but he appreciated the artistry of it none the less. "You could put up a little sign," he replied with a wry smile before glancing down to the tattoos that extended past the cuff of his leather jacket and onto the back of his hand. Today, they were most recently covered in the golden whorls of light that he'd pulled his hand-warmer from. "Yes and no," Ray said as he pulled up the cuff of his jacket, pointing to the enochian tattoos that were hidden among the more colorful artistic designs, "These are the actual tattoos that I have, and I designed all of them, though I only tattooed where I could personally reach. The pictures are a manifestation based on the spells inked into my skin. So, I form them with my thoughts but can't claim the artwork in a more traditional sense."
  12. Still Standing

    Ray held the door open for Stesha, before following her into the warmth of the cab with a soft sigh of relief. He wasn't overly fond of the cold, but - really - he suffered more than he needed to in not wanting to vary his wardrobe too much. Part of that was practical since he required access to the ink covered skin in case of emergency, but a good dose of it was pure stubborn dislike of changing up something he found comfortable. Ray leaned forward to give brief directions to the driver, before settling back against the seat. "It has a bit of a hipster vibe," Ray admitted, "Different than the hole-in-a-wall that I learned at decades back, in London." At her question, he glanced down at the sphere she was holding. "Oh, same as everything else I pull out of my tattoos, a bit of holy energy, a dash of creation. Light and warmth is easy to pull, even for someone in my bracket of the hierarchy. Well..." Ray paused and then amended, "I'm not really supposed to tap into any of it while I'm on a sabbatical but it is useful. Its harmless, barring demonic possession or an undead trying to lick it. Would not recommend."
  13. Still Standing

    "It depends on who you ask," was Ray's wry response to that question. Shifting a little, he bounced the spark between his hands once more, gathering light from the tattoos along his skin until it was more the size of a golf ball, and producing more heat for its increased size before Ray held it out for her to take with exactly zero reverence for the holy energy that he was treating as a handwarmer. "Here, cup your hands around this and I'll see if I can flag down a cab." Raising one long arm up, Ray took advantage of his height to signal for one of the taxis pulling in. "I work as a tattoo artist; I have a little shop across town. It pays the bills, and in a town like Freedom City, you get a certain stable clientele when you have a reputation for dealing with quirks like impervious skin or scales, or what-have-you." He paused before adding, "I was just heading back there. If you have some time to kill, you're welcome to come with me. There's a cafe that's right down the block, or I can put on some tea, or coffee. I don't have any clients slotted in as I never know if its going to be a 'five minutes' sort of consult or a 'whoops, now we're fighting the angel of death and there goes your afternoon', with you people." Ray added that last with what was clearly amusement.
  14. Still Standing

    "That's debatable but I don't think you're looking for philosophical debates standing on the street in this weather," Ray countered with a sidelong smile, "If I've learned one thing over the years, its that humanity is nothing if not surprising in defying any sort of imposed order, or reason. Did you need a cab?" He turned towards the street a little, in case she was in a hurry, but the slight grimace on his features was clear in profile, "Oh, nothing important. There was a question about one of the heavens, some minor thing, but apparently my name is on a roster now. I am starting to suspect that Heyzel has me down as his emergency contact. I don't think I provided any information that wasn't already known. Really, they have the metaphysics down probably better than I do. Unless the question is, 'Is that an original Rembrant, or is it a knock off', I'm really probably not too much use to the League."
  15. Still Standing

    Ray squinted a little as her silhouette seemed familiar but not immediately recognizable. When her magic touched the plants, though, it clicked into place. Shifting the ball of dancing light to his palm, where his fingers could curl around the warmth, he straightened away from the entrance to take a few long strides in order to catch up. "Fighting against the inevitable?" Ray asked, his tone somewhere along the spectrum of bemused as he caught up to Stesha's side. Gesturing with his empty hand towards his chest, he offered his name, "I'm not sure if you remember me? I'm Ray. Heyzel's... ah, cousin." Ray settled on, having never been fond of the 'brother-uncle' descriptor that the younger angel preferred. ("Mercy's sake, it sounds like we're from back-woods Alabama when you say it that way.")
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