<div style="width: 400px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify;">→ Mia, 40°, 81380. → <a href=http://shadowlack.com/persona.php?id=799>Neptunic Oxoide</a> <b style="color: #FFFF00;">"The only good form of screaming music is the kind in another tongue,"</b> he muttered darkly, sitting in a booth that had a constantly swinging, half working light that seemed to flicker off an on. Neptunic had spoken to Kjitsult a few nights prior to their would-be meeting within the Gravedigger about this and that and the other. The music that was in the background pulsed out of the speakers at such a rate that the gray male could feel a headache piercing through his skull as if he had some sort of devil horn trying to emerge. There was enough chatter within the club between different 'scene' thills that it distorted the music just a little bit. He stirred his drink with a straw, bi-coloured eyes scanning the dimly light club for a glimpse of the Anubi fellow that had told him to meet him there. Of course, Neptunic was always early so he figured that he probably didn't need to be impatient, although he was a little bored, and for the most part had been left alone by any of the common faces that he recognized within the room. The garb that he was wearing blended it pretty well and he looked just about like he belonged there despite his total disgust with the music. A few words were distingushable, but otherwise to him it sounded like the singer had the microphone crammed in this throat. He sighed, eyes turning toward the crowd that was halfway tempted to start moshing at anytime, he reckoned. If his timing was right, Neptunic assumed that Kjitsult would have been wandering through the smoky room any moment, searching out the other among the booths that were filled across the span of the club. </div>
<div style="width: 375px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify;"><a href=http://shadowlack.com/persona.php?id=395>Kjitsult Hajji</a> The last appointment Jult had that day had taken more time than he would have liked. It was a simple enough tattoo, mimicking his own naturally occurring stripe around his thumb. The problem was fighting with the young pendragon to sit still and to stop crying. She had wanted the tattoo; she had begged the twenty-five year old to do the tattoo despite his reservations. Just went to show that he had a better perception of other people than they did. One more idiot to add to the scrapbook he supposed. She hadn’t taken kindly to the pain, and after many moments of rolling his gold pupil-less eyes he had finished. Still slightly aggravated from the appointment and already running late, the male hadn’t taken much time in getting dressed. Yet with a snaky smile he noticed he was dressed just as the others were. Flicking his pierced ear at one of the bouncers and shoving past two four-legged pendragons, the two-legged male easily made his way through the smoky room and over towards Neptunic. It seemed the male had already gotten a drink and was waiting for him to arrive. Silently the tattoo artist blamed the young female that had made him late as he sat down. It was a nice place to meet he thought, thinking about the other clubs that might look down on his tattooed and pierced body. It was fine and good for someone to have one or two tattoos, but for a tattoo artist to come into their “establishment" was a different matter. Seating himself and sighing he glanced at Neptunic with a frustrated look on his face. Great first impression, he was late. <font color="#FF8C00"> “Been waiting long Neptunic?"</font> He would apologize once he knew the truth. </div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify;">The song changed to something that Neptunic could stand, something within his tastes. The song was in pure Ramathian and mostly full of the same screaming that had occured in the last song, but Nept' doubted that many would be able to understand the song like he could. He turned back to his drink, and almost directly after another body slumped down in the seat across from him, a smirk slipping across his face at the question. <b style="color: #FFFF00;">"Not really,"</b> he spoke smoothly, eyes still locked on his glass as he folded his hands to rest his head on them. <b style="color: #FFFF00;">"Judging from the tone in your voice someone kept you busy,"</b> he said this time, looking at the pupil-less eyes. Neptunic didn't really care for eyes like that it was a little hard to decide where the 'dragon was looking, he noted quietly, but didn't make much of a move on it. <b style="color: #ffff00;">"But no, I was early. I drew up the prototype I think you wanted. It might be a little sketchy though,"</b> he said, systematically moving onto business rather than having some sort of friendly chat with Kjitsult. That was pretty much how Nept' ran though, he wasn't much of a conversationalist unless it was on a topic that he was famliar with. The gray male dropped his resting position to fiddle with his backpack, long enough to get out the plan while the light above them had a fit. He found the folded piece of paper right where he had left it, and he fished it out and tossed it across the table to the other, wondering what he'd think of it.</div>
<div style="width: 375px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify;">When the song changed Jult blinked, gold eyes staring at the light above, visibly tilting his head as he attempted to make some sense of it all. Ramathian had always been a mystery to him; his father had spoken it once or twice but never really attempted to teach his son. It wasn’t as though the Anubi had wanted to learn it anyway; anyone that spoke it would normally kind enough to offer a translation. At the same time it reminded him of government officials with their high paying jobs and “I care about nothing attitudes." They could have their fancy things, all he needed was some appointments and to be able to inflict pain without punishment. That was the life in the long run, being able to control the way another person looked, this time glancing towards Neptunic with perhaps a friendlier look, and less like he was going to kill him the moment he looked away. He nodded briefly, glad that Nept was smart enough to notice such a thing – in the long run it just added to his belief that the other dragon was smart. He was glad that the other hadn’t waited long, it kept him from having to apologize and it just made their conversation and attitudes toward each other run a lot smoother. <font color="#FF8C00"> “Yeah, some girl wanted a tattoo and couldn’t handle the pain of it. She wouldn’t just leave; she had to sit there and try to prove something. "</font> Clearly frustrated he just shook his head, her face still burnt into his mind. He had to move onto their discussion, he couldn’t let that little moron get to him. As the paper settled in front of him and he opened it, his head tipped slightly, ears drooping as he studied the sketch. It was apparent that Nept knew what he was talking about and that Kjitsult didn’t, as he tipped his head this way and that attempting to look sophisticated. He could understand the basic design but any farther than that and he was lost. <font color="#FF8C00"> “How does it work exactly?"</font> He asked looking up. </div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify;">The reason for being held up was brushed off casually while the other had studied the paper, and Neptunic vaguely wondered what was going through his mind, watching the little cellophane act as if it wasn't much more than a charade. Perhaps it was, but he wasn't too overly judgemental in a club; everyone there was most likely someone who they were. <b style="color: #ffff00;">"It's not much more sophisticated than what you have,"</b> he said while the other was studying it, when the question arose. <b style="color: #ffff00;">"It works pretty much like any other standard device you might use, provided that you use them at all. Y'got yer ink vial slots, place to put the needle in and lock it into place,"</b> he said, pointing out what he was talking about as he went along. <b style="color: #ffff00;">"It's probably a little more bulky than what you can find on the street, but that's because it's a custom. Steadier ink flow, less clogging, and you can finally put together larger vials of ink to put in the slots. It's a tri-slot, and those kinds run a little high on the market."</b> the gray male said rambling on a little bit. It was suggesting vaguely that he wanted to make sure that Kjitsult really wanted it, since knowing the way things were, it would have probably taken some time to gather the cash that he'd need. Especially depending upon what sort of parts that he wanted. Neptunic didn't go into detail of that though, out of reason that he decided it would have probably confused the other. He wasn't wanting to confused the ebony fellow, since that was a sure way to blotch a deal, he knew. Although to this, Neptunic's tail flicked a little annoyed underneath the table although he wasn't allt that annoyed at the fact he had to explain. It happened.</div>
<div style="width: 375px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify;">The diagram wasn’t exactly complex, it was just that Kjitsult hadn’t taken any courses or trade classes on anything to do with machina. A few years ago as he finished up his classes in tattooing and artistry (herbology) at the House of Anpu, not wanting to pursue a Masters in either trade he had been quick to tell those at the school that would he be leaving. His head tipped up and his face tipped slightly, his straight and narrow ears pointing when they had previously been drooping. Tattooing machina was an interest thing, whether it was just a structure to help him tattoo or to tattoo more efficiently. A waitress walked by, a teenage pendragon with a heavily tattooed body and various piercings here and there. Her violent skin seemed to almost glow and Kjitsult nodded to her when she offered a drink. Handing the money and taking the drink with a smile he turned back to Neptunic, his smile fading as he turned back towards him. Tail twitched, the flame burning for a moment before his interests were piqued again. Every aspect was beginning to fall into place, and he nodded gently. <font color="#FF8C00"> “Oh, kay, I see it when you explain it that way. I’d love to be able to run a tri-slot. Competition is only running a double."</font> He didn’t bother to mention that he was only running a single, which of course was less painful, but took a lot longer. Custom parts were always necessary when it came to combining both of his passions. Herbology; certain herbs could help ease or increase the scarring pain and time it took. Some designs required immediate scarring, and others required a certain bleed out period of time. In his training and his passion, Kjitsult knew which designs required what; however he didn’t have the means to do it. Now he would. <font color="#FF8C00"> “Down to business Nept, friend, what kind of prices are we talking about here?"</font> He took a sip of his drink. </div>
