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Saturday, September 5th, 1:13 PM
Eve Martel's Chambers, DuTemps Building

Even at her most human there were certain aspects of Becky Shuster's physiology that had been changed irrevocably by her possession by a wendigo spirit. Her appetite for raw flesh was one she could done without, for example, but the contented jungle cat purr that reverberated throughout her whole body as she snuggled closer to her girlfriend's back was alright. With the silk sheets below them so smooth that they turned the mattress into a reasonable stand-in for a cloud and the pair of alpaca wool blankets tangled around their legs forming a toasty cocoon it was hard to think of anywhere else she could possibly want to be. Even so, as she nuzzled her face into snow white hair and tightened her embrace around the Frenchwoman's waist she murmured, "Mmh... We should probably leave your castle at some point before I have to head back on Tuesday. Probably."

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"Typical princess," Eve playfully groused, "Always seeking to escape the castle."

The white haired telepath extracted herself from Becky's warmth in one quick and fluid motion--though from the psychic bond that was strongest when they were close the Canadian knew it to be a reluctant withdrawal--and hugging a bit of sheet to her chest she stalked away from the bed and then haughtily turned toward it.

"Does that make me with wicked witch then?" Eve asked with an impish grin before sashaying back to the bed to lean over and give Becky a lingering kiss.  Sitting down next to her girlfriend the Frenchwoman let the sheet fall away as she ran a hand through the white-streaked chocolate brown hair.

"I think you're right babe," she said after a moment, "We need to get out."

Edited by Sorus

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Becky let out a low, rumbling note of displeasure as Eve slid out of the bed but propped herself up on one elbow to better observe the impromptu runway show. "If anyone is a princess, you're the princess, princess," she countered in a tone that was aiming for playfully pouting but came out a little huskier than intended. Once Eve had sat back down on the bed she quickly wrapped an arm possessively around the telepath's waist, rest her head on one of her partner's thighs. "I can be the dragon. Rawr." She made a claw out of her free hand, made all the more realistic by the black talons her fingernails briefly extended into before shrinking back to unpainted pink cuticles.

Having a hard time remembering why she'd suggested getting up in the first place, the Canadian sighed and pressed her cheek against Eve's stomach, somewhat muffling her own voice. "I think I hate being right, blah. Well, it's your city, foxy. What did you have in mind?"

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"Hmm?"

Eve shook her head slightly and blinked, dispelling her brief reverie though the image of those black talons across her pale skin still lingered in her mind and gave her an idea.  Still running a hand through Becky's hair while her other traced the outlines of the muscles of her back, Eve sat thoughtful a moment before responding.

"We've had a standing reservation at Pharos since you got into town," Eve said after a moment, massaging Becky's shoulders a little.  "Whole place to ourselves."  The thought of black claws against pale skin rose again.

"What do you think about tattoos?"

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Becky made a little noise as Eve worked over her shoulders that was somewhere between a moan and a pleased yowl, shifting to press herself into the petite Frenchwoman's fingers. It felt good enough that she didn't even protest the idea of eating out at a restaurant. She was self-conscious about eating in public since her possession and even with the whole place to themselves - part of her was probably never going to completely get used to the sorts of things Eve's fortune let her do so casually - there was still the staff to fret over. "Mmh... Yessss-- eh?" Suddenly bringing tattoos into the conversation managed to catch her attention, however. She turned over so that she was holding herself up with her arm, eye to eye with her girlfriend and leaning forward over her lap. Once the initial surprise faded her expression wasn't shocked so much as thoughtful. "...on you or on me?" she asked warily, biting her lower lip reflexively as her imagination supplied possibilities for both. She leaned a little closer, deciding that she wasn't ruling out either one out of hand.

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"I was thinking on me since you hand a moment ago gave me the idea, I really really like how that looked," Eve admitted with a faint smile, her cheeks flushing a light shade of apricot.  The she cocked her head to the side as she considered the rest of what Becky said.  "Would that be something you want to do too?"

She shrugged.  "Do you think I'm going too far?  I know you don't have a problem with the piercings," again Eve blushed, then she cleared her throat, "But, yeah.  What do you think?

"Me, you, something that means something to the two of us."

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"My...?" It took Becky a moment to figure out what Eve was talking about but when she did he own face turned a less delicate beet red. "You mean like claw marks?! Oh my god, Eve!" Letting her weight fall forward on top of the white haired telepath she buried her burning face between Eve's neck and shoulder, nose brushing along her collarbone. From the press of lips against her shoulder, however, the Frenchwoman could tell that the taller woman was grinning. There was no other word for it: the idea of leaving an indelible mark on flawless, aristocratic skin was just exciting. "Where were you thinking about getting it?" she murmured into the sheets, not making any move to removing her pinning mass, "Or should I guess...?" Propping herself up on one elbow just enough to see Eve's reaction the muscular girl mused, voice dropping into a huskier growl. "Maybe I could get a fox in the same spot? Or an apple or the Greek letter for 'psi'? I think I like this idea a lot."

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"Well, I am partial to foxes," Eve murmured making no move to extract herself from under her girlfriend, except to free her hands which meant that she was even more pinned in place than she was a moment before.  "I was thinking perhaps here," the telepath said touching Becky where her heart would be.  The white haired Frenchwoman's faint smile turned impish and her other hand brushed against the sensitive skin near the belly button. "Here was a thought too," she added before that hand went around to the opposite side of the Canadian's body.

"And here," Eve chuckled, "So you pick, where do you want to leave your mark?"

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Shivering a bit at Eve's touch, Becky propped herself up so that she could reposition herself over top of the petite Frenchwoman before bringing her mouth down again to blow a wet raspberry into Eve's stomach. "Up, up, you terrible, sexy monster!" she laughed brightly as she rolled herself off of the bed and headed over to the closet space set aside for her visit. "I'm reasonably confident the bed is still going to be her this evening and if nothing else I need to eat something -- not what I meant," she added, twisting around at the waist to point an accusatory finger at her girlfriend.

Tugging a pink plaid flannel shirt into place over a pair of stonewash jeans, she did continue to consider the question. "I'm not letting you get a tramp stamp, anyway," she decided with an emphatic nod. "You are my classy little lady. And I want you to still be able to wear these." She pulled a pair of lowrise pants out of Eve's side of the closet and held them up with a toothy grin.

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Laughing, Eve took the pants in question from Becky and tugged them on before selecting an open backed little number that kept the young Frenchwoman relatively modest (if somewhat provocative) yet serving to highlight the lean musculature of her back.

"Your classy little lady is going to start accepting some of the invitations her social 'peers' keep sending her way." Becky knew Eve didn't very much like associating with the 'social elite,' namely those that felt that prodigious wealth made them better than those without.  "And dragging you along with her.  I fear they don't make proper evening gowns in flannel, kitten."

The last statement was delivered with a grin and, grabbing her shoes she tugged her girlfriend out of the bedroom and toward the private elevator that whisked them toward the ground level of the Dutemps building.

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"Nooo..." Becky groaned as she was pulled away from the closet, theatrically dragging her feet even if she couldn't keep a smile entirely off of her face. It was always a little bit startling to walk across the sheer floor space of the sprawling apartment or to use an actual private elevator but she'd spent enough time in Eve's world by then to have mostly gotten used to it. She place a hand around the telepath's waist as the elevator doors closed and made a light snort. "Flannel or not, I don't think an evening gown is ever going to look quite right on me," she opined as they were rushed downward. "I missed my high school prom because... well, you know, but I wasn't even looking forward to trying to find a dress then let alone for any sort of fancy party."

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"Mm," Eve murmured slipping her shoes on as the elevator descended.  "I might be biased, but I disagree, I think you'd look stunning in an evening gown.  And I just happen to know someone who knows a guy that's very, very good at that sort of thing."

The Frenchwoman got up on her tiptoes, and pulled Becky over a little, to give the Canadian heroine a kiss on the cheek.  "There is at least one fancy party I hope you'll look forward to," she murmured into Becky's ear before the elevator softly chimed indicating they reached the ground floor.

Eve Martel enjoyed a small measure of anonymity among the residents of the building she owned, the busy concourse Becky and Eve entered was full of people who had no clue who Eve was and the small woman wouldn't have it any other way.

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"Well, no accounting for taste," Becky allowed, failing to keep her pleasure at the compliment and the kiss from her expression. She'd been a little sensitive about her height since the latter years of grade school and now that she periodically turned into a literal hulking monster those doubts hadn't exactly gone away but if Eve said she was stunning, who was she to argue? She was the one walking around downtown Freedom City with the lovely Martel heiress holding her hand and that did wonders for a girl's self-esteem. "What do you think about between the shoulder blades?" she suggested, picking up their conversation from earlier. "For the tattoos? Easy to hide or show off depending on the outfit and room to add onto them if we want to later? Or is that too obvious a place?"

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"Between the shoulder blades is a nice spot," Eve said as the couple walked arm-in-arm down the streets of the city.  The Dutemps building loomed large overhead, dominating much of the skyline in this corner of town but business and life thrived under its shadow.

"But maybe we could use that spot for something more, mmm, interrelated?" The Martel heiress suggested.  "If, you know, you're OK with a little more ink.  I know below the navel is a bit more.. intimate.. but that's where I'd want something that was wholly you."  Eve paused, Becky could practically feel her grin, before briefly grabbing her girlfriend's backside.

"Or here," the telepath added with a chuckle.

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Becky let out a surprised, coyote-like yipe at the unexpected goosing, momentarily straightening up to her full length before hastily ducking down and shooting Eve a look that wanted to be reprimanding but but had too much of a poorly concealed smile in it to pull it off. "Eve...!" Clearing her throat and looking around to see if anyone had noticed, she lowered her voice even when nobody seemed to be paying them any particular attention. "Under the bellybutton would be, um. Enticing? Doing that today might put a damper on the rest of the weekend though, like, um, in the bedroom department?" She looked like her cheeks were about to catch of fire any second but she powered through. "I can eat a steak and heal myself but you'd have to wait it out."

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Eve answered with a thoughtful hum, then shrugged.

<Then, my kitten,> Eve said switching to her native French, <We'll just have to refrain from being so vigorous in the bedroom department.>  As much as she enjoyed making Becky blush, Eve had no intention of outright embarrassing her--especially in public--so the switch to French should afford them a measure of privacy.  There weren't a whole lot of French speaking persons in New Jersey, and though the concentration was a bit higher in Freedom City, the chances of running into someone who knew the language were quite low.

<Besides, Martel,> Eve reminded her girlfriend, <We have a facility at Lonely Point, if you're really concerned we could stop there.>

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Covering her face with her free hand Becky groaned in abject mortification. "Auuuuugh, you're so bad!" Lowering her hand she squared her shoulders, trying to look as nonchalant as possible and perhaps overcompensating. "Let's try to avoid the medical facility if we can help it," she added in a very slightly tighter voice, looking ahead of them and avoiding Eve's eyes briefly. The long period it had taken for her to get the wendigo even mostly under control had not left her with a particularly fond attitude toward those kinds of buildings. She let out a breath and shook off the feeling quickly enough, regardless, looking down at Eve and allowing herself a small smirk. "<I can be gentle if I have to be.>"

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Eve didn't need to be a telepath, or the psychic bond she shared with her girlfriend, to know that her cavalier mention of visiting the Martel's Integrated Research Center at Lonely Point had made Becky uncomfortable and she reflexively cursed her carelessness.  Before she could utter an apology she noted that Becky had already moved on, so rather than drag the subject back to the front of their minds, the Frenchwoman dropped it.

<Hey,> Eve said in her soft soprano, leaning her head against Becky's arm as they neared their destination.  <A little pain never hurt anyone.>

Freedom Ink was where Eve had the majority of her piercings done--the ones that only Becky got to see and all but two of her ear piercings--was owned and operated by Ciara Lane, a short and curvy Irishwoman who despite spending most of her life in Freedom City never managed to shake off her accent.

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The shop had more than one artist but as luck had it Lane herself was leaning behind the counter as the two women entered and straightened to beam as she recognized one of them. "Eve, you adorable wee terror, good to see you! And who's this?" She looked Becky up and down before turning sidelong back to Eve. "Are you sure you're tall enough to ride that ride, dear?"

Becky, who had been distracted by the samples of art and photos of satisfied customers that plastered every available square inch of wall space blinked and looked back down to the parlor's proprietor, not sure if she should be annoyed or not. "Sorry?"

"Oh, don't mind me, luv, needling people is what I do for a living," Lane assured her with a grin that suggested that that joke never got old no matter how many times she got to use it. The taller woman's light accent sparked a bit of recognition, however. "Ooh, is this the girlfriend from Canada, then? I thought you were made up."

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"Why does everyone say that?"

Eve glanced at Becky, then Ciara, her brow furrowed in that vexed expression that was more cute than she realized.  "I tell someone about my girlfriend from Canada and everyone just gets this look, like that want to laugh."  Eve sighed, blowing a lock of snow white hair from her face.  "Ciara, this is Becky, who as you surmised is from out of town; much like the rest of us."  The telepath grinned at that.  "Becky, this is Ciara.  She's the one who did the work we spent all that time.. admiring.  Apparently she thinks I'm too small for you."

The Frenchwoman attempted to direct a scowl at the artist, a scowl that was thoroughly ruined by the smile teasing the edges. 

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"Everybody accuses Eve of wanting to go mountain climbing but nobody ever thinks that maybe I just want to go snorkeling," Becky countered, stumbling only a little bit over the unusually bold statement and jutting out her chin a little in the hopes it would hide some of her returning blush. Even if Lane hadn't set the bantering tone of the conversation already a tattoo parlour didn't seem like the place to come across as prudish, not if she didn't want to embarrass Eve in front of her friend. Slipping around to stand just behind her girlfriend, the brunette crossed her arms over the shorter woman's stomach so that her hands rested on either of Eve's hips. "Nice to meet you, Ciara." She might have also been feeling just a little bit territorial now that she was putting a face to the woman who'd done Eve's more private work, the wendigo growling faintly in the far corner of her mind. "Big fan of your work."

The redhead laughed brightly, nose crinkling less at Becky's words and more at the tone of voice. "Glad to know it was received by an appreciative audience, then, ha! So, who's getting what done tonight?"

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Cheeks flushed a bright red at Becky's bold statement, Eve opened her mouth only to close it without speaking, giving her shoulder a little shrug and flashing a sheepish grin at Lane as she settled back into Becky's embrace.  "We both are," the Frenchwoman said after a moment, tilting her head back to look up at her girlfriend, giving her a faint smile.

"We were discussing tattoos," she added.  "Think you can hook us up?"

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Becky's attempt at coming across as cavalier was somewhat undercut by how pleased she looked with herself and Eve's speechless reaction. "Ah, we didn't make an appointment," she admitted, suddenly realizing that that was probably the model a business like Lane's parlour worked on. "Is there a wait list we can get on or...?"

"Ha, don't worry about that!" the tattoo artist insisted waving them further inside with big, expressive gestures. "I always make room for repeat customers. Besides, I can already tell this is going to be a good one." The Irishwoman looked knowingly between the pair of younger women as she pulled up a pair of mismatched chairs for them near a larger seat that looks like it had probably been intended for a barbershop originally. "So, lay it out for me, luvs, what were you thinking?"

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"We're still working out location," Eve said then went into detail on the options they were considering, namely between the shoulder blades or below the navel.  The Frenchwoman was careful with her language, while she would generally be a bit more frank about the discussed pros and cons, she knew her girlfriend was a bit more prone to embarrassment.

"That's the basic idea," Eve concluded.  "We want matching locations, even if the tattoos themselves will be different.  Some claw, or scratch marks on me and fox paws on Becky."  She bit her lip a little, "not the flashiest work you'd have done Lane, but it'd mean a lot to us."

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"I think, um, I think we decided on the, y'know, the lower one," Becky spoke up once Eve had outlined the general idea of what they were looking for, framing the space in question with both hands despite struggling with her own self-consciousness. It helped that Lane had simply listened to the description of the design and placement options, no judgement as she turned to all business. The taller woman turned to her girlfriend, looking for confirmation. "Right? It's supposed to be sort of private anyway and... yeah. I think it makes sense. Does that make sense?"

 

The tattoo artist offered her a reassuring smile as she went about preparing her equipment. "If it works for you two, that's the only thing that matters, especially for something this personal. If this is the first time you've had something done, shall we let the wee terror go first?"

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