Amora sat, confused for a moment by Irial's sudden departure. It had been somewhat frightening; she'd been swimming in pure darkness, water surrounding her. She kept seeing flashes of faces, sometimes she recognized the eyes as those of Irial's, or Niall's. A few times, Leslie's face flashed before her, agonizing and staring at her, as if condemning yet symphathizing with her for her decision. But most of all... A little girl's voice was ringing in her ears, though it felt distance, like background music. Mother? Mother? It was so softly questioning, but searching for something unfindable. The voice was almost heart-breakingly agonizing, but only because the memory of it went with it...
A woman, with hair so pale it shimmered like white-gold, crouched down to the ground to fiddle with something her lithe body hid. Behind her, the world was a blanket of blackness, no stars glimmering contentedly amongst a black night sky. The woman's eyes, pale blue with flecks of gold, peered up at the sound of shuffling footsteps. In the door behind her, a little girl stood. One tiny hand was fisted, rubbing at her eye, the other clutching a pale blue blanket flowing behind her like a child's bridal trial.
"Mother?" young Amora whispered, repeating the phrase, "Mother?"
The woman lifted her head, her lips rosey and her cheeks flushed. Her lips twisted into a farther smile, as she strode forward in clear, confident steps. She took her finger tips, framing the little girl's face, and pressing a kiss to the girl's brow. "Darling..." she whispered.
But suddenly the memory ended, and Amora was greeted with Irial's brooding eyes as he peered down at her. They were dull, and flat, but with a hint of concern that was almost unable to be seen. .Amora was generally good at reading people's eyes, only because she tried so often to look in the mirror and see what other's saw in her. Then, as she relaxed and let the scent of a tattoo parlor surround her, calm now that the floating of faces and memories had ended, Irial had been gone. He had just up and left, in the blink of an eye.
Slowly, Amora sat up and gazed around. A wad of cold, wet tissue fell from her forehead, onto her bare stomach. She gave a little jump, before looking down to pick it up... And she was stunned.
It was truly beautiful, though it was only an outline. There was the knotwork, like a series of it's own tattoos, behind just the outline of what Amora knew would be lovely, yet haunting eyes. And the scar was starting, extending down to her waistline. Currently it truly was just all outlines, in plain black ink, though the very tip of the scar that seemed to protrude from the eyes was a dark red that if Amora didn't know better, she might have assumed it was black as well. The tattoo made her smile, as she traced around the plastic. It wasn't that big, only about the width of the tip of her thumb to her middle finger when outstretched. It would be done in a few sessions, the almost Celtic knotwork behind the eyes would take the most amount of time to do.
Rabbit coughed behind her, and slowly Amora turned her head to look up at him. For a moment, she was quiet, before everything was easy to remember. She smiled appologetically, before it turned to pleading, "Can we continue with it?"
Hesitating, Rabbit's mouth twisted downwards sullenly. "I don't think so, not today. You need to rest. Come back in..." here Rabbit hesitated, his true reasoning? He wanted either Niall or Irial to be present during it, in case something happened. He wanted a full blooded faerie there, and someone who had experience with the ink exchanges. He didn't want anything to go wrong, and Niall was a strong leader... He had said this would be for the best of the court... But still, to be sure, Rabbit felt uncomfortable working on the mortal.
"I'll give you a ring when I can tattoo you again, and we'll set something up." Rabbit finished, as Amora smiled and took the pin back out, letting her shirt cover her tattoo, and walking out the door.
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That night, Irial visited a new club, called Klub Khaos.
The bar was relatively new, which meant that the pretty cocktail waitresses didn't know him. That made them all the more eligible. Though across the room he knew Niall was there as well, Irial feigned oblivion to his king's presence. He sat at the bar, sipping at a mortal drink, though it disgusted him. He remembered a bar like this, though it had been filled with his own kind, not Leslie's. It had been where he had danced with her, kissed her, and intoxicated her. Oh, how his heart yearned for her. And seeing her today... It had just crushed him. He was tired, and he needed salvation in a mortal. He knew if he still was king, he'd simply radiate pheremones, and have women crawling across him, he could have his pick... But now he carefully looked through the club, for someone who seemed to be just hollow. He knew he was addictive now; but just this once, he didn't want to have to deal with someone who was too willing. He wanted to play the game, to pursue... But he wanted Leslie, overall. The one he could never again have...
He was just about to abandon his search, and go quench his thirst with a few already addicted mortals, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and felt his lips quirk up in astonishment, as one did when they ran into someone, but felt as if the other person had been searching for them. Amora stood there, behind the bar. Her hair was straightened instead of waved, and pulled up on the top of her head in a pony tail though a few pieces escaped to frame her face, longer than he would have expected it to be when unwaved. Her eyes were lined thickly with black on the top lid, that circled down to her lower lid, but halted halfway in. A faint dusting of gray shimmering eyeshadow reached the crease of her eye, though it seemed faded, as if from work. She wore a slim black collared shirt, almost a polo, though it bared a small inch of her midriff - Irial could see part of Niall's scar exposed - as well as a black skirt with small chains where pockets would have been. A quick glance downwards showed that her feet were bare, though in the next instant he saw a pair of black, almost combat style boots, that seemed painful even from a distance, the heel was so high. She did look good, and Irial couldn't deny that.
But she was no Leslie.
"Funny running into you here." Irial murmured, raising one eyebrow and tilting his head to the side. He caught Niall's eye, making a small gesture for his king to abandon the redhead fawning over him, and come over. He wanted to see how the girl was doing with Niall's ink on her. Irial swivelled back around, facing Amora.
"I work here." Amora said with a small laugh, as a customer threw a bill at her. She took a frosted glass from under the bar, filling it with foamy beer that escaped out and over the side. Amora slid it down to the man, quickly wiping up the liquid that sloshed out of the glass.
"Really? Aren't you a little young?"
"I'm eighteen, it's perfectly legal just so long as I don't take a drink." As if to prove a point, she filled up a small glass with Sprite, sipping from it.
At that point Niall joined them, and he was a little more at ease than Irial was. Perhaps that was because he hadn't heard Leslie's name fall from Amora's lips that day, though Irial had informed Niall of Amora passing out during her tattoo. "How is the tattoo coming?" he asked.
Amora smiled, placing each hand on the bar and lifting herself up so that her arms were supporting her. She sat slightly on the ledge of the bar, not too close to any of the patrons, and lifted her shirt just enough so that Niall could see the tattoo. "It's beautiful. Thank you, so much. I positively love it." she seemed to be glowing with excitement then, or perhaps that was just the mixture of blacklight above her head, and blue tinted bulbs at her back. She carefully lowered herself back onto the ground, leaning forward with her head in one hand. "Why are you guys both here?"
"Came to relax." Irial spoke, running a hand through his hair. He didn't bother to push it out of the way, when it fell into one eye.
Amora laughed, "Do you two go everywhere together?"
"Merely coincidental." Niall responded this time, extracting a bill from the breast pocket of his black button-down shirt. He placed it on the bar, tilting his head at whatever Irial was sipping contentedly at.
Niall had to admire the way Amora's fingers moved quickly on the tap, with careful yet easy concentration she worked. A free strand of hair fell into her face, and he knew that if he leaned closer he could smell her hair. But he didn't, he stayed where he was, carefully watching her. He gently took the strong lust and anger from the patrons next to him, stronger because of Amora's presence. There was just barely his blood and essence on her skin, and yet he could already feel a difference -- if he tried, that is. It didn't come effortlessly, as the other fae had told him it had for them.
For a second, Niall peered at Amora. He gently put Leslie into a back corner of his mind, looking at Amora for who she was, and not as someone trying to replace Leslie. Could he care about her? Could he want her, and need her, in the way Irial had Leslie? Would he want to keep her alive, even when she was close to death? Would he maybe even, be able to love her if he was able to know her?
Suddenly, Niall felt a foot against his shin. He glanced over at Irial, nodding as he realized he had obviously been in deep thought. The mortal was taking too much attention. And that wasn't good. Curtly, Niall stood and smiled at Amora though it nowhere near touched his eyes. Across the bar, his eyes met the girl who had been adoring him before he had walked over -- had it truly only been a few minutes ago? -- and crossed to her. Mortals were so easily replaced. So easily forgotten.
Irial watched Niall leave. Careful, Gancangh. he thought, his king hearing him but not responding to him. He smiled sadly at Amora. "Don't mind him. He's just having trouble relaxing now - a - days."
Amora smiled, tucking her free strand of hair behind her ear. Her bubble of happiness seemed suddenly deflated, in the way her shoulders weren't as far set back, and she kept her eyes cast down. But the bad part was her smile. Her lips always seemed to be quirked upwards, at least in the tiniest bit. It was what was appealing about her. But now, she was just plain frowning. "It seems you two are always running away from me, or something." she murmured, before peering up at Irial. "You don't have to stay and chat with me, it's okay. You probably want to go toy with the other girls here."
Irial smirked. That had been exactly what he wanted to do; he wanted to come and wash the ink exchanges, as well as the memories of it, off his hands. But instead? He was face-to-face with the new Shadow Girl. Somehow though, he wasn't comletely annoyed. "Hey, it's fine." he murmured. "I'm sorry for running out so quickly this afternoon, I ditched you." But suddenly Irial's phone buzzed in his pocket. He extracted it, glancing at the ID. Niall.
"Make sure she's okay."
"I know, I am." As he spoke, Irial was aware of the presence of a new bartender, behind him. His back was to the new-comer, as well as Amora. He was faintly aware of friendly words, before Amora saying, "Look, I'm getting a tattoo..."
"Okay. I'm sorry for leaving so soon it's just... Well, Iri, have you left yet?"
"No I'm still here." There was silence on the other end.
"Irial?" The soft voice didn't belong to Amora. It made Irial's throat suddenly clog, as he turned around and met Leslie's eyes.