A Family Bond

[The Spider]

(Jamison dawdles in his old age. The actual tattooing takes place after a long awkward dinner. Perhaps you should scroll through that part. Jamison's mun disagrees. Enjoy.)

Jamison wasn't putting off going to see his daughter for the tattoo that he agreed to take. He was preparing, he had gone so many years without taking any ink, that was a weird fear that he had. But today was the day, hours of meditation releasing the majority of his ambient aura so as not to interfere with the electronics around him. As such he hadn't worn his coat down to his daughter's room. Just a white shirt with its sleeves rolled up to the elbows. knocking on her door, three raps with the end of his cane.

Spider had a very full day.  Her time was spent preparing for her return to the Nevernever.  Today she'd continued her research into gateways, scouring the pages for additional means of locating them.  She was determined to locate a gateway and enter the Nevernever without Jamison being wiser for it.  Right now she was putting the small kitchen to use.  Preparing for dinner.  Remaining at the stove eyes lifted.  Eying the closed door.  She had an assumption but what if she was incorrect.  She decided to take the risk.  She stamped her foot three times firmly on the floor and her door swung open.  From where she stood she could see her assumption was correct.  "Why good evening Father.  I feared you'd forgotten I lived here."  A triumphant smirk.  She enjoyed jibing him so.  She was dressed modestly.  A simple black dress.  With full long petticoat and skirt as usual.  The top a red laced black bodice - built into the dress, not an authentic corset.  The markings of her arms were exposed as was the one on her sternum.  She was barefoot.  Hair black hair with a small splash of shockingly red roots was styled upward with pins.

"My mind seems to be escaping me in my old age. I've hereby decided I plan to reconcile that senior moment." Was his small jibe back at her, leaning forward into his cane, offering his daughter a smile and a polite bow of his head. "You look positively radiant today." It was Fae custom to offer a compliment on one's looks at a meeting. Jamison was using it as a way to support her Fae side, not too much though.

"And your nose, positively brown..."  She smirked.  Deflecting his comment as idle flattery.  But when he paid it she'd stood taller, shoulders going back, head lifting.  There was no denying her pride thanks to his words.  The compliment earned him this.  "Did it perhaps notify you that you could welch a dinner from me?"  Yes, she would actually endure a meal with him at her table.  "Would you care for a cordial?"  Normally a drink had after dessert.  But Spider nipped at cordials at any time.  Out of all alcoholic beverages she tended towards the sweet and fruity.  Just she liked a lot of honey in her tea.  Spider stirred at what she was sautéing in her simple pan.  Other hand reaching for her small stout glass, emptying it of its sweet drink.  "In the event you decide to venture from the doorway, you'll shut the door behind you?"

"I do believe that it did remind me of that... I would very much enjoy a cordial. Thank you." When she invited him to enter he did do just that. Limping in carefully, and then the moment the door closed behind him he stood strait and leaned his cane against the doorway, and entering her room proper." Thank you for the dinner invitation Carolyn." And yes it was because her door was closed that he addressed her by her name.

Placing her empty glass down, hand reached up and pulled a fresh glass down from the cupboard.  Uncorked bottle was tipped over it.  The cordial was St. Germain Elderflower Liquor.  She held the glass out to him.  "Here."  Spoken impatiently.  As if he was taking forever to take it when she'd only been holding it out to him but a second.  "The service won't be immediate.  All is only nearly done."  She set the spoon on the stovetop and went into the cupboards to get another place setting.  Set across from her own, at the small two-person dining table in the room.  If Jamison dallied in taking his cocktail Spider would have that in one hand while she did all of the rest. 

"Thank you." He had both hands now, so he was able to take the glass from her, and have his hand in his pocket, all cool like. He only had a small baggie of salt in there.  After a small sip from his glass, he took his seat at the table. "Thank you, none the less... might I ask what it is you have prepared for us this evening?" Folding his hands on the table looking at the different things on the table, looking for any indicators of a menu

"You mean what I prepared for myself that I'm graciously willing to share?"  Pointed out with a prim smirk and a glance.  Returning to the stove to stir what cooked on its surface.  "A seared fish and sauteed vegetables."  It was not often that Spider ate farm-raised meat.  Zalina was a militant vegetarian and this dietary shift that met her wife halfway was still practiced out of habit.  One of the few ways Spider 'gave' in the relationship instead of asserting her will, wants and dominating their affairs.  Pan in hand she doled out the vegetables between their two plates.  With the herbs and butter she used even these smelled with a sweetness.  Over to the stove to take the fish out of the oven.  Fish was split between them.  Spider even topped off his glass.  While her words had her usual abrasive edge her actions took care to serve her Father.  This was her being nice to him.

"Yes, that... I'm sorry." Jamison watched her cook, she certainly carried herself in a kitchen much better then the old Warden himself did. He'd never admit it, but he wished all too often that a microwave was actually usable in his presence, the fact that they made entire meals already portioned out, that all one had to do was throw them in the microwave, he heaved a heavy sigh every time he saw one in a store, of course that sigh was only on the inside. "It smell delicious, you certainly have far more culinary talent then myself."

The serving dishes were returned to the stove.  Spider topped off her own drink and then took a seat.  This was the first time they had sat at a meal together in over twenty years.  This fact was not lost on her.  "Is there anything you'd like to say Father before we begin our meal?"  When she was little it was his custom.  The meals they had shared once a decade after Spider left his care for good seldom went smoothly enough for the meal to arrive peacefully.  She did not pick up fork, knife or drink until he answered her question.  She was well-raised.  Or could appear so, at least.  "I am sure your long line of cooks have been thankful for the work."  She assumed he did not cook for himself.  He was of the old world.  Their home had a number of house workers when she was young.  Was that ancient history now?

"There have been none, I've done well enough on my own... I often eat out." It was ancient history, Jamison ever since she left him had fallen back to a rather humble lifestyle, living alone in ancient home in california.  Burying himself in the tasks expected of a warden. The works. when she asked if he would like to say anything, Jamison looked surprised. She hadn't asked him that since she was a much much younger woman. "Of course..." Jamison lowered his head then. "Powers beyond. I wish you protect us during our meal, and allow us to thank you for the opportunity for the meal to be shared." He looked up then." I would like to thank you again as well."

"That's a sad life Father."  Stated as a matter of fact.  "Even nuns and monks cloister themselves with company."  She wasn't looking at him when she spoke so.  Instead honey-bright eyes were on her lap.  Where she was laying out her napkin.  Smoothing out the wrinkles.  So her head was already bowed for his blessing.  Knuckles of her right hand rapped the table three times.  Her way of accepting and echoing the blessing as it always had been.  Then she picked up her fork and knife and cut into her fish.  It was tender and didn't really need the knife's touch.  But she wanted both her hands busy.  "Yes Father.  I hear your thanks."  They were making her uncomfortable.  She didn't know what to do with his gratitude.  Or how she was to feel about it.

"Nuns and monks live their lives in peace while cloistered." Jamison's eyes watched his plate then, he too picking up both fork and knife in order to properly enjoy his meal, with a bit of fish cut jamison took his first bite." It is wonderful Carolyn." Her response to his thanks made the wizard think it best to keep his compliments fort and to the point. He didn't want to ruin this evening and have her not invite him back for another ten years for a meal.

"And you do not?"  It seemed to her he suggested this.  If nuns and monks were in peace and had company, because he was solitary did he lack peace?  She paused in her business with her food to ask him this.  Eyes looking up to examine his face.  Before looking away.  She reached for her drink.  After consuming half of it she stood from the table, to get the bottle of the St. Germain.  She had left it on the counter and that was a mistake.  She would need more drink than was left in her glass to get through this meal.  "Solitude isn't peace.  It's punishment."  Muttered emphasis on punishment.  She wasn't thinking about him.  She was thinking about herself.  Her current solitude.  The upset in balance it caused.

"There are times where i do, but they are measurably fewer then the times where peace is something that escapes me." When she got up to gather the bottle, it reminded Jamison he had a drink, which he picked up to take a small sip of before spearing one of the veggies on his plate and popping it into his mouth. "Words of wisdom..." It was a compliment, implying that her words rang true with him as much as they did in reference to her own thoughts on them.

[The Spider]

"Are they?  Likely your way of suggesting I should accept your blonde tarts and nooners."  Spider was determined to think there was funny business going on with Father and those women.  He'd said he'd been celibate for over a centennial.  She didn't believe that.  Before she said more she made a point to stuff her mouth full of food.  Lest this dinner end up like all their failed decade dinners.  Once that mouthful was chewed she busied her mouth with another one.  Determined not to say anything more.  Her brazen attitude was fueled by vulnerability.  She knew that all too well.  Sitting here across from Jamison having a meal with him was...a form of settling.  She didn't know if she was ready to settle into this life.  A life that he was a true part of again.

"Likely not, as there are no nooners with blonde tarts to be had." Which was true, Jamison was being truthful when he said he had not shared his bed in over a hundred years. She didn't say anymore, and so Jamison wouldn't speak up more on the subject either. Choosing to busy himself with continuing to eat his meal, pausing to take another sip of his beverage it was great, and compliment the meal well. "Which year is this? It's delectable"

She lifted her eyes from her meal.  Pausing her chewing to purse her lips at him.  She looked less than convinced.  It was what she wanted to believe.  How could he be sitting idle and single and not rekindle with Mother?  That was unbearable for her.  "Ver weg."  Spoken after she swallowed.  With a flick of her fingers towards Jamison.  A wave of heat pushed the bottle to him.  It clanked into his plate.  He could look the bottle over for himself.  "It is made from a macerated flower, Father.  Not fruit like wine."  She assumed the year mattered less than it did with grapes.  She speared into and ate a forkful of fish.

Had she met her mother? Spoken to her at any length? Carolyn's mother was a manipulative ancient wench who cared only for things that could benefit her directly, and Jamison no longer fit that bill, so even if Jamison wanted to get back together with her mother, odds are she wouldn't want him anyway. "It is still fermented, and aged..." He set his fork down, picking up the bottle and giving it a read over, a small nod before topping off his own glass, offering some more to her. "Though it does not list a year."

Spider's daughterly devotion overflowed for Mother as always.  After the incident with Zalina the nature of the overflow had simply evolved.  From human devotion to the Fae's manner of devotion.  Fae were quiet good at loving and willing vengeance on someone in the same breath.  Perhaps she believed her parents deserved each other.  "Because the year is unimportant."  Emphasis on unimportant.  As Spider flicked her fingers forward again.  This time to push her glass towards him by traditional means.  Rather than magical.  She was working hard at being brief with her words.  She considered it a gift to him.  Concentrating on eating her meal.

"It is rather unimportant, you're very correct." Taking another bite from his meal, spearing a bit of the fish after the veggies and enjoying that mouthful together, bobbing his head at the outcome of both flavors mixing together. And he too was working on enjoying his meal, so as to keep her from thinking that he didn't enjoy her cooking. Which he was, it was very very good. That she pushed her glass forward, Jamison topped her off with the bottle before setting it down. A push of force sending the glass back to her, as if to show her he noticed what she did.

At this point of the meal Spider was keeping her mouth full.  A mouth full of food couldn't say the litany of comments spilling from her thoughts.  Remaining civil was a painful exercise.  But when her plate was clean there was nothing stopping her.  "Where were you?  You left here a few mornings ago and you went far.  Don't think I didn't realize."  She'd paid dearly for his absence.  Spider drank her glass in two gulps and put it on the table.  Silverware on top of the plate.  She took her empty dishes to the sink and there she'd leave them.  Putting the kettle on was a good excuse for not returning to the table.

"There was an incident at my old home,there was a fire.  A wolf who sought vengeance for a past wrong i have offered to him... it was a slight that i had to ensure was rectified..." Jamison said that last bit quietly cutting a bit of fish off and eating it from the fork, chasing it with a sip from his beverage. "I am sorry I left without saying so." It was genuine, he was sorry he hadn't said anything to her when he had bolted off to go handle that business.

What was there to say to such a reason?  Spider stilled.  She was searching for words.  "I see."  Quietly replied.  It was all she could muster.  She waited, but no more words would come out.  So she continued her business.  Pulling two tea cups and saucers from the cupboard, she carried them over to the table.  Once set she returned to the cupboard to take out the sugar and two spoons.  Those were delivered to the table next.  She remained standing so that she could fetch the kettle when it boiled.

Jamison knew that probably wasn't the best way to break the news to her. But he wasn't one to mince words. Jamison gathered his clean dishes, after finishing up his food of course, finished his drink and rose. walking over to her sink without a limp and place his dishes in the sink. Turning on the water and going about the business of cleaning the dishes for her. "I thought I'd come over tonight, and ask about scheduling a time to get my tattoo."

She didn't object to him washing his own dishes.  On the contrary she stepped aside.  When he stated his business she stared down his back.  Lips parted.  Then, she laughed.  Emphasis on laugh.  Like a flood gate just opened.  But the laughter stopped quickly.  Choked up in her throat.  She held back the rest of the sob and its threatening tears.  A sudden swell of emotions.  She was prone to those peaking out before she got them under control.  In this case it was because she found his timing ironic.  A tattoo in exchange for his family crest to bond them and make him keeper of her humanity.  She considered her behavior at the waterfalls as a 'too late'.  Or her guilt did.  It was enough to make her refill her glass with drink.  "Now is as good a time as any.  I'm only half-cocked with drink.  Have one or two more Father and it'll be quite painless.  The drink will thin your blood but," a wave of her hand.  Who cares about blood?  Spider was more knackered than she admitted.  Obviously.  She'd been drinking before he got here.

Jamison glanced back at her over his shoulder at her explosion of emotion. Brows raising in question. "Very well then, but I must ask, do you think I will look that ridiculous with a tattoo?" Thinking her reaction was based off of that Jamison himself thought he'd look silly with ink, but it was more about functionality,and supporting his daughter then it was about how silly he might think he'd look. "I may take you up on that,  you wouldn't happen to have any whiskey would you?"

"Vain man.  My outburst had nothing to do with you."  Her clipped reply.  Spider's lips were pressed in a thin line.  Literally keeping her mouth shut.  Willing her focus to think about Father's tattoo, and not the one he aimed to mark her with.  "If you have no blonde tarts you've no one to show your marked flesh to anyway."  She meant it logically but the words may have come with bite.  She was never good with dealing with inner emotional difficulties and keeping a cool outside.  Not when it came to Jamison at least.  Fixing him with a stare she crossed the room.  Going into a chest of drawers.  She pulled out a pint of whiskey.  She kept it as a potential potion ingredient.  Which is why it was unopened.  She set it on the table next to his teacup.

"That is true, it will simply be for me and my reflection."The old wizard smiled, and picked up the bottle of whiskey. Smiling brightly and giving a nod, brows up as he looked up at her. "I've taught you well, this is an extraordinary brand and vintage. Thank you," ANd he cracked the seal, pouring some whiskey into his tea cup. which he brought to his lips and swallowed down.

"It's not for my consumption.  I have it in case of need for a potion.  I also have a bottle of piss poor whisky should a potion better benefit from that."  He should be thankful she gave him the good bottle.  The terrible whiskey really was that.  Terrible.  "I could have fetched you a proper cup.  Or is that really what's in your tea cups these days?"  A smirk.  Spider was returning to the chest of drawers.  Opening the bottom drawer.  From there she removed the materials she would need to give Jamison his ink.  All contained within two fastened cases.  "You also want the crest, I assume?  And you brought with you a drawing?"

"More often then not I'm afraid." Jamison took another gulp of the liquid and gave a nod, setting the bottle down. "There are several, very good potions that i could think one would use this whiskey for. And all of them, make me extraordinarily proud that you know how to do them. You've come a long way with your Alchemy. And I, have.. yes." From his pocket he produced a picture of the LeFey crest, it was emblazoned with some elaborate stitching on a bit of fabric. The crest itself was elaborate, it was similar to the pendragon crest. but as opposed to dragons framing it, there where two faeries, and inside of the crest there was a shield that bore a gryphon.

The compliment about her potion-making skills swelled her pride.  Spider held her head high.  She also smirked.  "I've come a longer way in alchemy than you have.  Warden."  He was more than twice her age so that was a bold statement.  That skill she practice often.  Many Wizards found potions tedious.  She enjoyed it.  So hands on.  Endless uses.  The two fastened cases of her inking supplies were set on the cleared table.  Spider stepped forward and snatched the paper from Father.  Gesturing at him impatiently with a wave of that same hand.  "Well?  Bare your chest Father.  The ink will not get there by us thinking about it really hard."  She crossed her arms in the meantime.  Waiting.  "What has made you a drinker?  Your daughter's sordid affairs?  A hundred years of disregarded birthdays?  Or do you admit only to your whiskey that you still love Mother?"  Her grin was wan and bold.  All that flower liqueur had made an impression on her.

[The Spider]

"Perhaps...I'll have to test you on that statement one day soon Carolyn." Jamison's tone was challenging to her statement. but he gave his attention to unbuttoning his shirt. Which he didn't at all take his time doing. And underneath his shirt was the well toned body of a man who worked very hard to keep himself in shape. The shirt was folded in half neatly and draped over his seat, and he looked about. "I assure you, my drinking has absolutely nothing to dow with your affairs Carolyn...  It helps to dull the buzz I'm surrounded with when I am trying to sleep."

"Bring it on old codger."  She was smug.  Looking forward to the day she would wipe the floor with him.  He didn't know what she spent the last century studying.  He only had his assumptions and theories as a basis.  He was in for a surprise.  "You chose silence as your answer about loving Mother.  I heard it clearly."  She was smug about that too.  Just the possibility that he might still love her gave Spider joy he couldn't even imagine or understand.  When he bared his chest he'd see no interest from her.  He was her Father but it was more than that.  The male body was no warmer than stone to Spider.  One hand she placed on his shoulder.  The other that held the paper he gave her pressed that paper flat to his chest.  "Don't move."  She shifted the paper until the drawing he gave her straight and over his heart.  She didn't ask him if he approved of the placement.  Their agreement was that the mark would be over his heart so it would be.  "Ver weg."  Her will and her words pulled from two of her markings.  Jamison would feel cold air and heat on his chest at the same time.  When she removed the paper he'd see the drawing he gave her was now on his flesh.  No longer on the paper.  It had become the stencil for her work.

"you little whipper snapper, you are going to rue the day that  you challenged Jamison LeFey..." There was mirth there, as if he knew for a fact she couldn't best him in a test of Potions. But her persistence about her mother got through. "Your mother gave me the greatest gift a man could ask for, I will always be thankful to her for that." He was very specific to say that he was going to be thankful, and not that he loved her. Because he really didn't love her mother, it was impossible to share love for someone who could only love herself. eyes watched her actions, nodding his head slowly. "Impressive."

"Ha!"  Emphasis on ha.  Rue the day.  That was rich.  He would learn his first lesson from her and like it.  Another day.  When he said Mother gave him the greatest gift she scoffed.  Shaking her head.  She kept her thoughts to herself.  She took a single step back.  So she could study the stencil.  "For other men the next step would be to shave the area."  A catty grin.  Looking him in the eye.  She was satisfied with the placement.  She pulled out the two chairs from the dining table.  They faced each other with the table to one side.  "Sit."  Spider pointed to the chair he'd sat in for dinner.  "I assume you have devised a plan on how to imbue these markings and initiate our heartwarming bond?"  She was used to saying the words herself.  Sometimes the Wizard wanted to say them with her which she allowed.  But to turn over that portion entirely was new ground.

When she told him to go sit he moved to do just that, taking a seat down on the chair and relaxing after a slow breath in and he gave a nod. "I have, it is something I've thought on to an extreme degree. I believe I have the means in order to imbue the marking with the power needed to accomplish just that.

"And this you will do while I am inking your skin?"  She wasn't convinced he knew what he was doing.  She knew Jamison was powerful.  Capable.  But this wasn't his area of expertise.  It was hers.  "Does your means require that the mark is inked into my flesh in this sitting, too?"  A frank question.  Very practical.  He should be proud of her.  She didn't plan on inking her flesh tonight but if it was necessary she would.  She had enough drinks in her to loosen her usual rigidity.  To help her go with the flow.  As the saying goes.  She turned to the table.  Pulling the snaps of each case open and rolling the two cases out.  The experience Jamison would have would be different than doing to a vanilla tattoo artist.  They used modern methods.  Modern inks.  Her inks were specially prepared for magical purpose.  Her methods were turn of the century and involved no electricity or battery power.  As these didn't work well around Wizards.

"I can imbue the mark after the work is done, so long as the ink is still fresh against the skin." He spoke that as if it was a fact cemented in stone. He was expert at imbuing items with magical properties. And he had read every book he could get his hands on regarding the subject of imbuing a body part with magical energy. And in Spider's own book, it had said that any practitioner of the art used special inks for the purpose of imbuing, so Jamison already knew she had special ink. He thought he was set. "No, your mark can be imbued whenever you wish it to be done."

Spider paused in her work.  She was mixing inks.  Pigments were powders in small vials.  They needed to be added to their liquid base.  Because this involved more than color she had two other powers she added to each color she prepared.  For this mark she would prepare five colors.  She was efficient and confident in the task.  When she spoke she'd already prepared one of the colors.  Slipped into a slim test tube holder with six available slots.  When she paused her honey-bright eyes turned their stare on him.  "If you do this after the mark how do I know you're upholding your part of this bargain?"  He was permitting her to do hers at another time so it wasn't a current concern.

"I'm going to do it here, in your plain and clear view. I must do so quickly." His answer was swift. eyes watching hers very intently. "When you perform an imbuement do you imbue the work while you etch it into the skin?" It was a genuine question, he didn't claim to be an absolute expert on the subject, and any new knowledge would be appreciated.

Spider watched him.  Even after his answer was complete.  She was sizing him up.  Considering if he deserved her trust.  She turned back to her work.  "Every puncture of the needle in the skin and every deposit of the ink is an opportunity Father.  Indigent tribes have known this for centuries.  Such markings are like potions.  The harder the labor and level of care, the greater its return."  If he noticed while she did her tasks confidently where she took the greatest time was measuring the ingredients.  Measurements could create miracles or disaster.  "I've never done this before where my client chooses to imbue their own mark."

Jamison thought for a moment. He had no modesty, when he was young people didn't really have any. And she was his daughter, there was no awkwardness to have here. While he watched her work, his mind worked, great wheels turning and cranking through her statement ."That makes sense... and doing so with each press of the needle, would do well to offer the marking even greater strength."

Spider stopped what she was doing.  Turning to look at Father her empty hand clutched her chest.  "My stars.  Did you just listen to me?"  Emphasis on listen.  "I'm afraid we can't do this tonight.  I'm having a stroke." 

"Yeah, I guess what they say about old dogs isn't true now is it?" Jamison offered his daughter a smile and a nod. "Well then, my plan is a complete and utter success." There was a bit of a laugh at the end of his words before he added. "Being able to shock you into a stroke... perhaps you should have a sit down."

Spider turned a smirk on him.  "If your plan was to debilitate me, all you had to do was stand back during my trial and do nothing."  She didn't sit down.  Assuming that suggestion was a jibe.  She turned back to her work.  As she continued to mix she said nothing more.  Let the silence hang between them.  It was a choice she made at least once a meeting with him.  Their meetings felt weighty to her.  She believed if she was silent long enough he'd put the weight to voice.  Speak what wasn't spoken.  The third was deposited into the holder.  Then the forth.  She had only the black left to mix.

Jamison sat in silence as well, maybe he took that jibe back a little personally;  but he did watch her work. He didn't let the silence weigh down too heavily on him. He simply took her silence as her concentrating on working with her pigments. "I've seen apothecaries who measure their prescriptions out more haphazardly then you do Carolyn..." There was a fair amount of pride present in his voice. He had instilled that importance in her when she was a young girl.

"I'm no apothecary."  Thank stars and stones for that.  Sickness was something she couldn't stand.  The times in her life that illness made its way past her Wizardly and Fae defenses she was impossible to deal with.  The one bout of flu Spider had years ago had made the changeling so abhorrent Zalina moved in with her mother for a week.  The black mixed she didn't put it in the holder.  She picked up her needle and the ink was loaded into it.  How the needle spilled its ink was similar to the mechanics of a fountain pen.  There was a simple mechanism that Spider's thumb worked to release the ink when the needle was in the flesh.  She tested the needle against a piece of sterilized white fabric.  Satisfied that it worked she sat in the chair across from him.  The fabric she put over her thigh.  She adjusted her chair so that she could reach the stencil on his chest with ease.

"This is a very true fact." When she sat in the chair he scooted his a little closer, adjusting his chair so that the side with the stencil would be closer to her and easier for her to reach. Eyes wandering about for that bottle of whiskey. Eyes stopped though on her tool, he'd never seen one like it before. "Fascinating… you'd found one that requires no electricity... or did you create it yourself"

The bottle of whiskey was wherever he left it.  She had delivered it into his hands.  Spider's concern was about her own drink.  It sat on the table near the test tube holder.  Reasonably close.  "A needle that requires electricity is a modern invention, Father.  I took what Wilona's Father used at the time I had need of my first tattoo and I have modified it to serve my craft better."  How the ink was loaded into the needle and how it dispensed were her modifications.  She could use the instrument as well as any painter could wield a paintbrush.  Wilona, if he remembered, was her closest girlhood friend from childhood.  Also from a family of Wizards.  "When you are ready Father."  She would work her craft.

[The Spider]

"Ah...Wilona and her father where very good people. it is still a rather fascinating invention... " He offered her a nod, taking a slow breath in order to relax his muscles, with the breath Carolyn might feel the rush of pent up magical energy that Jamison carried with him. Any lights in the room would flicker a bit before returning to their original luster and he offered her a final nod. "I am ready..." and he was. That sigh was an attempt to keep his magic from spiking and ruining her lights or anything like that.

Father's power made her shiver.  She closed her eyes.  Momentarily dizzy.  Power like that woke her Mother's blood.  Fae admired power.  Thirsted for it.  As always the swell of envy followed.  If their relationship was different she would demand answers of Jamison about how he became so powerful during their time apart.  Pride prevented her from asking.  "Do not move while I work.  If you must speak the need to me first."  It felt satisfying to instruct him for a change.  It felt strange to be so close to him.  This was her expertise, she would think of him as a simple client.  Not her Father with whom she had such a jagged past.  Bending over she applied the instrument to the upper right hand corner of the stencil.  "I will outline the marking first."  No other warning was given before the needle punctured.  It did not move as quickly as the electric needles used by vanilla tattoo artistS but the rhythm was a steady prick that left a deposit of black ink in its wake.

Jamison always called her Carolyn, always always when they were alone. She shouldn't be surprised when he called her that. "I don't need constant conversation... and my chest, is another matter entirely... Dragon's breath is a hell of a thing." And that's all he was going to say on that subject. But the implication was that while Wizard heal from almost anything there where some thing that even a wizard couldn't heal entirely from.

She wasn't surprised.  She was well aware he dropped her name when they were alone whenever he got the chance to.  It didn't mean she had to like it.  "Very well."  Spider would accommodate him.  Falling silent.  Because her needle involved no electricity even it did not make a sound.  It was only felt.  She had a smooth hand.  And did very clean work.  After tracing a half-inch worth of the stencil she paused.  Dabbing the spot with the white cloth she had on her thigh.  When she replaced it there it had a red splotch on it.  Blood of course.  The flow would not be anything significant but it was enough that she would have to dab regularly.

There was a twitch when she started but he did not wince or draw in a sharp breath. though he did watch her as she worked, watching rather intently, she might feel Jamison's own will mingling with hers while she worked. he was infusing as she worked it was her recommendation after all. And he was nothing if not compliant when he was clearly with someone who knew more then he did.

Once the area was wiped she began her work again.  Many found that after a time the prick of the needle was reduced to a dull pain, a bearable reality.  Spider had done this work for almost a century on others.  She was well in tune with how a body responded to the punctures and how well someone weathered the pricks.  She felt his twitch.  Her eyes strayed next time she wiped the cloth over his chest.  Studying him.  Lips pursed.  Saying nothing about what she was about to do before she started needling again she stroked her fingertips very slowly over the area she was inking first.  It was a hot touch.  Summer's power.  Burnt orange particles left in the wake.  Fae dust.  When she applied the needle again the pain would be much reduced.  She had numbed the area.

"Thank you... for doing this." He felt she needed to know that. Eyes watching her work. He felt that warm numbing touch, that certainly was very nice of her to do.  Considering the fact she didn't have to numb the area, it was something he hadn't prepared for. It was most welcome, a smile tugging up at the corner of his lips.

"Thank you for a mark you didn't want that is only being inked into your flesh as part of a bargain made with a changeling?  Suffice to say I'll never understand you."  Her reply was cooly given.  No warmth to her tone but no sarcasm either.  A proper polite British candor.  She didn't look up from her work to say it.  The needle continued to puncture him with a steady rhythm executed by her hand.  He wouldn't feel the pain any longer but he would feel the pressure.  There was no numbing the pressure.  Spider sat back to dab and examine the nearly complete outline of the outside of the marking.  Nodding slightly she leaned in and continued.  She would do all the black portions of the design first before moving to any color.

"If you choose to look at it in that fashion, I suppose it is hard to understand." He took he time she took to examine her work to speak, after all he was doing the work of imbuing the mark with magical energy while she was inking it. "My bargain was made with my daughter, and i never said i didn't want it..." And she was back to work, jamison's eyes watching her work, channeling power along with hers with each press of the needle.

Spider frowned.  Her words were quiet and grudgingly uttered.  "It means a lot to me that my humanity matters enough to you to ink your flesh to protect it."  Even if her own humanity didn't mean that much to herself sometimes.  Eyes still focused on her work while she spoke.  During the procedure he would continue to feel the pressure of her own power needling into him.  Upholding her responsibility to make this tattoo a lasting, potent totem.  She was thankful for having this twofold task to concentrate on.  It kept her from thinking about other things.  Her relationship to Jamison, her activities a few days ago, or her wife, for examples. 

"I would do anything to protect you..." Spoken softly, watching as she worked, still channeling the energy. It was true, Jamison would do anything if it meant he was going to keep his daughter alive, safe and well. He had done so in the past, several times. And whether or not she chose to believe it, his actions at her trial where part of that. It was his way to protect all those close to him, the LeFey's where born with targets on their backs, they had to stick together.

"And I you."  Silence after that.  Her eyes fixed on her work with all the concentration she could manage.  She was not going to let this emotional talk affect her outwardly.  She was not.  The result was this comment after she dabbed the area next.  "The right of making you eat dirt is one reserved for me and me alone as your daughter.  No one else will take that from me."  Bold words suggesting she could actually take down the great Jamison LeFey.  Was the desire to be the one to punish him the only reason she would do anything to protect him?  No.  It was the only reason she was able to say.  Or wanted to say.  In that same polite British manner. 

"That is rather comforting to hear." Though she would have to wake up extraordinarily early in the morning, a few days in advance in order to try that. Because while Jamison would do anything to protect his daughter, he wouldn't simply allow her to kill him. He would stop her first. without harming her of course.  But that she wanted that pleasure solely for herself was comforting, Because even an immovable object could be supported from time to time.

Spider had sustained herself for an entire week without sleep.  There was no need to even wake in the morning several days early.  She simply wouldn't go to bed.  It was unlikely such a day would ever come.  Not in the current reality.  Where daughter was grudgingly showing father love through permanent ink and fulfilled promises to let him be bonded to and keeper of her humanity.  "Mm."  Noncommittal response.  Because she didn't want to say anything else.  To say more would allow vulnerability and she didn't want that.  Instead she chose silence.  Finishing all work with the black ink by trading between pricks of the needle and dabs of the cloth.  The cloth she left on her chair as she stood up.  First needle she put down on the table.  Second she pulled from the case.  It would take too long to clean all the black ink from the tool.  Such markings were time sensitive.  So she had multiple needles.  One for each color.  All sterilized and sanctified.  Her back was to him when she spoke.  "You didn't tell me a deity resides at this Inn, Father."

Jamison drew in a slow breath when she was finished. Eyes closed when he exhaled it slowly. He'd built up a bit of latent energy while trying to focus it all into her work.. but now that she stood, so did he standing and leaning back in order to crack his back before sitting back down. "I didn't know that a deity resided here in the inn, how do you know that there is one residing here at the inn?"

"Don't go anywhere.  I won't be long."  She only had to load the next color into into the needle.  Spider turned to face him.  Fresh sterile needle in hand.  Picking up the cloth, she tested the blue ink.  It flowed well.  "I have never had a color inked into my flesh."  That was obvious looking at her.  But she wanted him to know the sacrifice she was making.  That he wasn't the only one making a sacrifice.  "I prefer only black."  By that time Jamison sat back down.  Spider did the same.  Pressing needle to flesh she continued her work.  "Because she told me as much."  A smirk.  Tone matter-of-fact.  "A daughter of Zeus and Aphrodite who lives on the third floor.  She two daughters.  One is a foster.  This means two deities may reside here.  I'm shocked you didn't know.  Your vacation has addled you."  That what she called his residence here. 

"I noticed that was the case... may I ask why?" He was prepared when she moved to sit back down. "I am a man who keeps to himself for the most part Carolyn, I'm most certainly not addled." Maybe that came off a bit defensively. Though it wasn't really his intention. "I'd very much like to meet this Deity child of Veus and Aphrodite…" That was jamison's ' well this could be a threat to me' tone. He really didnt think she was a threat, but the informed are less likely to snuck up on.

When he got defensive she laughed.  Not a laugh of sarcasm.  A laugh of whimsy.  She shook her head but said nothing.  She answered his question instead.  "Black is a color of remorse.  But also protection.  Both of these remind me why these marks have been inked onto my body in the first place."  It was the simplest answer she could give.  Spider worked with the blue ink at the same level of care and expertise as she had before.  Some people felt a greater sting from colored pigments.  As she had numbed the area Jamison would not be treated to this.  "She and I met at the waterfall.  We were both swimming.  In the nude.  I told her of you, and Mother.  She knows you are a Wizard.  She knows Mother is a Fae."   

[The Spider]

"A symbolic gesture adding feeling and power to each of your markings..." A thought that the warden mused on for a moment, listening to her words about the goddess she had met at the falls. A chuckle escaping his lips.Then. "I do so hope that you spoke all good things I would very much hope to not be struck down by this young woman."

"I suppose.  I've always considered it my reminder to never let a man do such to me again."  Spider exhaled the rest the breath in her lungs.  She was not used to speaking to Father so freely.  He didn't even know the catalyst for all these markings a few short months ago.  She paused in her needle work.  Needing to settle herself.  He might feel the prickle in her power.  It wasn't fueled by anger.  She blotted the mark in the meantime.  She was not looking him in the eyes.  "I spoke no ill of you Father.  You were a brief feature in our time together before it turned to a conversation of hands and lips."

"Also a suitable reminder for that as well." Jamison offered a nod, focusing his will on her work again. Filling the mark with the energy needed to create the reminder he sought for her. It wasn't just his will, he was channeling what he knew of their blood, the tasks that he knew his ancestors had done, the great feats in magic that other LeFey over the years had completed. "I see, I can think of no better place for a conversation to take such a turn."

"Besides in the arms of my wife."  The polite British tone broke.  To something darker.  It was hard to place the emotion behind it.  Guilt?  Anger?  Remorse?  Need?  All of them most likely.  Again she was thankful she had this task to keep her hands busy.  To try to set her mind on completely.  Rather than thinking about the goddess or Zalina.  Spider leaned in and resumed pressing the blue ink into Jamison's flesh with pricking rhythm.  There was tension in her shoulders and the rigidity of her back when she leaned forward to work on Jamison once more.

"Yes, that would be a better place most definitely..." Jamison fell silent again, allowing the silence to hang for a while before he spoke up. "We are going to get her back Carolyn... we will." That was all he would say To that subject. taking his focus back imbuing the tattoo she was giving him now.

Spider's hand dropped from his chest.  Resting on her leg.  Needle obviously still in hand.  Honey-bright eyes lifted to meet his.  Seconds passed in silence.  Spider's breathing very deep in and out twice before she spoke.  She was trying to retain her composure.  "What is the worth of the egg shell without the egg?"  It was all she said to him.  It wasn't rhetorical.  She was truly asking.  Her tone implored him.  Seemed to say Please Give Me Wisdom.  "I don't desire the shell."  She was glad for the metaphor.  Maybe the metaphor would make her seem less cold.  "A shell isn't worth danger or risk."  Eyes dropped to her lap.  Lips parted.  She almost said something else.  It felt like too much, however.  So she changed her mind.  She had not approached her Father for advice in a century.  During those hundred years she'd convinced herself she didn't need it just as she didn't need him.

Jamison thought for a moment,  a slow breath in. "There is little worth to a shell without the egg, as it is... you can not put the egg back within its shell... little worldly use that is. That is not to say that they are without their uses. They are used to hide oneself, and serves as a threat, as when a shell has cracked, it is far more brittle to finish it off...There are two ways you can approach the threat of egg shells. you can sweep up the pieces, allowing the one who scattered them a chance to get at you while you do... or you can walk right over them and take away the threat." He was never one to mince words, but he tried to sound as compassionate as he was able, saying what he was saying.

Her work was nearly complete with the second color.  She could not stop now.  This topic was a distraction to his concentration as much as it was her own.  One more steadying breath.  She went back to work.  Silent.  She heard what he said.  She was just not responding to it.  Not yet.  First she would finish the blue.  Filling in where the stencil called for it.  Stopping periodically to dab the area.  When she dabbed she did not lean back.  A sign for him that she was not intending to cease her work for more talk.  He would feel the needle with a firmer prick than before.  Not because her work was careless.  Because the effect of the Fae dust was wearing off.  He would also be able to feel her power injecting into him with each prick of the needle.  Making the mark ripe for him to dedicate its purpose with his silent chants.  She assumed he was chanting while she worked.

She presumed correctly. he was channeling his energy into the marks while she worked, though it was less chanting, more intense focus. After all this was his mark, you couldn't just willy nilly anything with it. That she remained silent, Jamison though to follow her example. Also sitting silent presumably until she was finished with her work.

Spider sat back.  Dabbing the white cloth over the mark.  Honey-bright eyes scrutinizing it closely.  Taking her time.  Dabbing the mark a second time just so she could be sure.  With a nod she stood.  That needle was set on the table to be cleaned later after he left.  "I will be using yellow for the rest of the mark.  Not white.  I prefer to apply white to areas to give dark colored marks a dimensional depth.  That is what I will use white for with yours."  She wasn't asking him she was telling him.  If he looked at her own marks he would notice some of them had such off-white shading.  Many didn't notice it unless they were looking for it.  "If I was nothing more than a shell would you step on me to be rid of the burden Father?"  It was not a question of accusation.  Spider wanted to know.

"Very well, I understand." A firm nod when she said her bit about using yellow instead of white.  He had no disagreements with that. she had been doing this for a long long time after all. And Jamison had every confidence in his daughter's ability. "I think it in rather poor taste to answer a question with another but, If you where a shell, would you want me to?"

"If you find it in such poor taste Father don't do it and provide me with an answer."  She wasn't going to answer his question.  To answer it could affect his answer.  Maybe that's what he was fishing for.  If it was he'd find her unobliging.  When it came to Zalina's current situation what the shell that was one her wife wanted was far from her mind.  In Spider's opinion Zalina lost her say in the matter the day Zalina set foot in the Nevernever without telling her.  She loaded the yellow pigment into a fresh needle.  Testing it on the white cloth as she did with the others.  Taking her seat she would start her work once more after dabbing his chest with cloth. 

"I would never do anything to harm you. No matter what to which i have sworn an oath...Now answer my question... If you where robbed of who you where, would you want me to exact vengeance  on whomsoever was stupid enough to wrong you? By any means at my disposal?" He didn't wince again. He was used to it now and simply sat calmly while she went back to her work.

"Vengeance is a different matter entirely Father.  I'll have mine when I remove Mother prematurely from her Throne."  Did she wish to be full Fae?  No.  Did she wish to reside in the Nevernever?  No.  Did she wish to be the Summer Queen That Is?  No.  Would she to exact vengeance on Mother for what she did to slight her?  Without question.  She wore a smirk that was confident.  Eyes on her task.  She had no doubts she would be successful with her retribution.  "I know you would exact swift vengeance to any who brought harm or foul to me.  You are like me.  Or I like you.  Providing torture upon each other is our right alone."  Yes.  She was suggesting that like her, Jamison inflicted pains on her out of spite, scorn, judgement and so on.  That was their history and it had been for a century since the American had come into their lives.  From her viewpoint it was. 

"Indeed it is, what is not another matter though is how Zalina would have wanted you to exact that vengeance." That's what he had meant but perhaps another question would clarify. "Speaking hypothetically... if we where able to be kept alive by modern medicine. And you where in a comatose state. Kept alive by machines... would you desire to live the rest of your days as such?" To her last statement Jamison didn't touch on it yet. He didn't at all think he tortured his daughter regardless of what she saw of him.

"The Zalina I knew was a proper wife who wanted what I told her to want."  Emphasis on told.  Her desire for women had not been culturally accepted at the time of her youth.  But she was raised before the turn of the twentieth century when the viewpoints of what roles the dominant (husband) had in a couple and what roles the submissive (wife) had were clearly outlined in books of manners and in laws.  Jamison suffered old fashioned thinking at time and Spider showed now that she did too.  Her wife was obviously the submissive.  "Which is why her trip to Mother was and is a shock to me.  I never told her I wanted anything close to what she did.  She acted on her own desire and her punishment was swift.  By Mother's hand.  It should have been my own.  Mother took from me my right to punish my own wife."  Spoken like a Victorian man.  Would she be so rigid with Zalina if it was true, proper love shared between them?  If true and proper love was not what she'd experienced with her wife, Spider had never experienced it.  She did not answer his question.  Again.   Instead after a dab of the white cloth she continued her work with the yellow ink.

"That is not to say acted solely upon her own volition. your mothers tongue is a botanist, planting seeds, and nurturing them to fruition."Let it not be said that Jamison never defended Zalina despite his past thoughts on their relationship. "Most are not able to defend themselves against it." Jamison in his time with her mother had seen many a human fall to her wily tongue. in fact he was not even certain he was always immune to its effects.

His phrasing made Spider laugh.  Merry despite their conversation.  "Mother's tongue is exquisite.  You should know this.  Having spend intimate time with it.  Zalina was my wife for twenty years.  Do you think I did not teach her to defend herself from Fae wiles?  She should have been able to tell she was being beguiled.  She could have alerted me.  We all make foolish choices.  Don't we Father?"  Honey-bright eyes looked up at him.  Attempting to initiate a stare.  Pointedly.  Obviously she thought him foolish at times.  "Nonetheless I expect you to defend Zalina without wavering.  You'd rather her the victim and Mother the culprit.  Both of us know this."  He hadn't asked his question a third time.  It made her smug as she dropped her eyes to focus on the marking.  Since she'd come here he hadn't been brave enough to use the power of three against her.  She expected he never would.

"I know it better then any living creature yes... And I make no secret of how I feel about the your mother. that is not to say she is completely without fault. rather, that the fault rests more with her then it does with your wife." she she initiated the stare Jamison held her gaze without wavering. Jamison knew his mistakes in life and he was not embarrassed for them. she could stare all she wanted and he would return her gaze just as easily."You still have not answered my question though." as if to point out hat he sure did notice and was ready to ask again.

Spider rolled her eyes.  Zalina disobeyed and was most at fault and she would not be convinced otherwise.  Mother had made errors and would pay for them in good time.  "I've not answered your question because it has nothing to do with our conversation Father.  We are speaking about the fact that I view Zalina as no more than a useless shell and don't think she's worth saving, yet I am still married to her as she is still living and so I've committed an infidelity."  So if he wanted the answer he would have to ask again.  She wouldn't give it otherwise.  She clearly didn't want to or she wouldn't be difficult.  After a dab of the cloth she sat back again.  Eyes narrowed with concentration as she peered at the mark.  Dabbing it again.  Yes.  The yellow was even and all areas filled in where needed.  The mark could be complete here.  Shading was for aesthetic purposes only.  Spider stood from her chair.  She had not mixed white earlier.  Out of all the colors it separated fastest.  It was best to mix it fresh as she did now.

[The Spider]

"Do you see it as such? When you yourself said the woman you married is no more?" Jamison fought the urge to say 'you know, being married didn't stop your mom from frequently committing those.' but he did not. Now was not the time for that. Perhaps she might bring it up more, but Jamison wasn't going to now. When she started to mix the white Jamison looked down to admire her work. "You do extraordinary work Spider..." he noticed the discomfort him using her birth name had brought to her before and was trying to be nice.

Spider inherited Mother's taste for more than one piece of fruit.  Fae were not monogamous creatures and that Spider's purpose as Fae drew her to women with fierce emotion made it harder for her to stay faithful.  Though she didn't know the reason behind her own desires.  For she hadn't realized the purpose rooted instinctually in her blood, as all Fae had one.  But she always brought such fruit back to her web.  To be shared with Zalina.  Never had she strayed without her wife present to participate in the act.  "Regardless of what my eyes see I feel guilt.  I cannot trick myself into not seeing that.  So does it matter what I see besides?"  She saw Jamison looked down at the mark out of the corner of her eyes.  "Do not touch it Father."  He hadn't moved to do so but she wanted to be sure he wouldn't.  "That would be unwise.  It's not yet finished."  All the ingredients in the test tube were shaken by her hand and then poured into the well of a fresh needle. 

Jamison had to think for a moment on what to say. He really didn't know how to help. His experience with woman was most certainly dated. Which may or may not have been beneficial, perhaps her old world learnings would be helpful after a moment he said. "My father, always said that it was a wife's duty to see her husbands needs are met. and when she can't meet them, that his only option would be to see them met elsewhere." He didn't say that usually met the wife was beheaded or something to that effect. But he was trying to help, maybe... in a sort of backwards way.

She agreed completely with Grandfather.  She chose to vocalize a different observation.  "You seem to be in no rush to follow Grandfather's advice.  Celibate for decades.  Without any waitstaff to care for you.  Not even someone to dust your books.  Or urge to you attempt to be fashionable in your dress."  She smirked.  That was a dig at her Father's choice in wardrobe, yes.  Spider sat and would begin shading.  This detail work needed less ink but sometimes took longer.  If rushed shading could backfire and make a mark look less dimensional than it had before.  To shade a different application of the needle was required.  More pressure and a slight roll upward.  It would be the most painful of all she'd done to him today.

"Grandfather's advice applies only to those who are still seen in the eyes of all as married. Your mother and I are not. And I'll have you know, that my clothing is perfectly stylish. The young lady in the shop informed me of such." That was said firmly he liked his clothes. And they where easy to enchant and keep enchanted. Which reminded him. There where several enchantments that where meant to be reset soon.

"The young lady obviously works on commission.  How sweet Father that you can still be beguiled by a pretty girl."  She smirked.  To shade the mark properly she was leaning very close to him.  So honey-bright eyes could see every small detail.  The shading was coming along well.  This was not the first time she had tattooed a crest.  It was the first time she'd tattooed the crest of the LeFey however.  Marking him was good practice for making the same mark on herself.  Speaking of.  "The partner to this mark, you expect to be present when I ink it?  And I can place it where I may."  That was a statement.  Not a question.  Their bargain as agreed upon had dictated where he was required to put his mark.  Not where she was to put hers.

"Perhaps she had. But I've not had any complaints as to my wardrobe before... beguiling young ladies and the sort seem to think I'm rather dashing." He offered a smile back. Jamison knew he looked damn good in a suit, and so did everyone else. And that spider was just being mean by picking on his clothing. "I would like to be yes, but it is not required. And it is of no consequence to me where you place it, so long as it can be imbued with he energy i must channel into it."

Her smirk didn't fade.  "Dashing.  How dated of you."  His mark was nearly complete.  Spider remained silent for the rest of the work.  A minute, two at most.  She deposited the needle on the table and unsnapped a large pouch in one of the cases.  From it she pulled gaze and first-aid tape.  From another she pulled a bottle of lotion four ounces in size.  From a third pocket she pulled four brown bottles, each an ounce in size.  An eyedropper was used to add ingredients into the bottle of lotion.  "I will notify you the day I decided to take my mark.  Take the white cloth from my lap, Father, and dab your chest a final time.  The inking is finished and it needs to be bandaged."

Jamison reached forward and took the white cloth. A deep breath before bringing the cloth to his chest and dabbing at the ink that was there. Careful not to rub at it. Just a few dabs. Lowering the cloth, folding it over in his lap and giving a nod. "Thank you. It looks amazing."

"Of course it does.  My skills are unparalleled."  It wasn't ego.  She didn't believe so.  It was truth.  "And should any female lay eyes upon it they will be bewitched and believe you to be a human-sized toad."  Spider spoke that with the same brusque efficiency that she spoke everything when they were in each other's company.  She did not even crack a smirk.  Cap was placed on the lotion, and she shook it firmly.  Then the cap was removed, and she sat in the stool.  Patting a dollop the size of a quarter into her hand she spread it thickly over the mark.  A square of gauze was placed on top of that.  Then she reached for the first-aid tape.  Ripping a strip off of it and pressing it against the gauze and his chest.

"I highly doubt that. You could not have woven such a specific enchantment, over my own without my knowledge" He spoke just as she had, crisp and clear; spoken as a clear and concise fact. There was absolutely no way that could have happened. "Thank you again. For giving me that mark... and for dinner."

Spider shook her head.  Smirking.  "So serious, old codger.  Even when faced with a joke."  Of course he would know if she attempted such a thing.  It wasn't entirely out of her nature to slip such an enchantment on him.  But she wouldn't attempt it during his waking hours.  She knew better.  "Your welcome, Father."  Emphasis on both your and welcome.  He had thanked her so many times tonight she reached her limit.  The other three pieces of tape were applied to the gauze and his skin with hard pressed of his fingers.  Maybe now that she'd said that he'd stop with the thanks.  She picked up the bottle, capping it and holding it out to him.  Picking up three packages of square gauze and holding those out to him as well in her other hand.  "These are yours to take.  You should apply the lotion for the next 72 hours three to five times a day.  If you do not, the skin will scab and the mark and your work on it will be ruined.  When the mark begins to peel do not touch it.  The skin will fall on its own time.  Whenever you wear a shirt you should have gauze over the mark until the three days have passed."

"How was I supposed to know you where joking?" Jamison grabbed his shirt already wearing a smile, and put it on not buttoning it of course. allowing  it to hang open. And taking the offered gauze, sliding them into the pocket of his pants. The bottle of lotion taken next, taken with a nod. "I will do that.  I will also replace this lotion when I get a chance to." He didn't have any why would he? he really had no usual use for lotion.

"It's telling that you thought I wasn't.  That was more informative than any of your answers to the questions I put to you in the garden."  She meant that seriously.  She had a better sense of how he viewed her character now.  She rolled her eyes when he said he would replace the lotion.  He knew little about her line of work didn't he.  "That lotion I make myself.  It isn't bought.  Think of it as a potion, Father.  There's no need to replace it, a bottle is given to each of my customers."  As Jamison dressed himself, Spider began the work of cleaning up her instruments.  Taking the unused ink to the sink, the tubes would be washed out and the ink sent down the drain.  It was not wise to keep unused ink.  Especially this ink tailored to enchantments.

She really didn't know how he viewed her character. "You may glean what you desire from my response Carolyn." He meant that seriously as well. While she may have seen what she thought she saw from his response, she has made her opinions of his character very very clear for a long time. "Oh, thank you. Is it meant to speed the healing process of the inking?" His coat was gathered next, draped over his arm. "Would you like some help, cleaning up?"

"I have already Father, permission unnecessary."  Smart talk from her.  "No, the opposite.  It keeps the mark from healing.  As it normally would, by scabbing.  Keeping the mark moist ensures that just the top layer of skin peels, and peels off cleanly.  This way the coloring and the magic are not disrupted."  The cleaned test tubes were placed in the dish rack next to the sink.  "I can clean my own tools Father, there's no need.  You are free to go any time you wish."  Said to him as she moved back to the table, picking up all four needles that he had used to ink his marking.  These were carried to the sink but not cleaned immediately.  She put the stopper in the sink's drain and ran scalding hot water first.

"Fascinating...I'm very much looking forward to the alchemy challenge." There was genuine fascination in his voice. His daughter really did have a knack for the magical science. A fact that tickled him immensely. "Have a good evening Spider. Sleep well tonight when you get there." And Jamison opened her door, waiting for a moment before stepping through it and going back to his room, presumably to get some rest.

End

[Sponsored content]