4. Relm Gets a Tattoo
Terra wasn't sure whether she should be fascinated or baffled; Sabin was drawing on himself.
He had asked to borrow the ink and pen she occasionally used to write one of her rediscovered memories down. She had offered him some paper as well, but he refused, saying he already had something to use. And now, there he was, clumsily drawing something on one of his muscular arms, wincing every time he accidentally stuck himself with the pen.
She craned her neck in an effort to see exactly what it was he was drawing when he stood, quite suddenly, with a look of triumph on his face.
"Hey, Terra! Check it out!" Now, as far as she could tell, an awkward, inky version of a Slam Dancer was "tattooed" to his left bicep.
"Look! I can make it dance!" He proceeded to flex, and the dancer seemed to move. Terra smiled.
"That's great, Sabin." He nodded, obviously very pleased with himself.
"Now I gotta find that kid. I'm sure she'd like this." She nodded absentmindedly as she began cleaning up the ink spots on the table.
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Sabin eventually found Relm sketching away, as usual. She looked up, one eyebrow already raised. Immediately noticing the dark, blotchy picture on his arm, the other eyebrow shot up.
"Lookee here, Relm; I can make it dance!" He flexed again, and the dancer took up its repetitive sway.
"Pretty neat, huh?" Relm met his grin with a bored expression.
"Oh, I can do that, too," she claimed, and turned back to her drawing. The Figaroan twin smiled.
"What?" he asked with a half-laughing voice. The young artist sighed and put down her paper. Picking up one of her brushes, she quickly painted something purple on her skin. Sabin looked on in surprise when a miniature version of Ultros danced across the girl's arm.
Strago entered the room in time to see the creature spin around his granddaughter's wrist a few times before coming to rest on her shoulder.
"Relm! Haven't I told you not to draw on yourself?" The child's look turned from one of guilt to one of defiance.
"No. You told me not to draw myself. 'Cause one of me is enough." The old man sighed.
"Where on earth did you even get the idea to give yourself a tattoo?" Sabin quickly placed a hand over the crude drawing on his arm and began backing out of the room.
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When Terra saw Sabin again, he was trying to scrub the inky Slam Dancer off his skin with a wet cloth. She thought she heard him mutter something about, "not fair," and "didn't even move her arm," but she could have been mistaken.
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Thank-you for your time~!