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Wed, Mar. 5th, 2008, 09:06 pm
exaltedlaurals: Set 1 #29. Original Fiction Allie/Drake/Isaac

<b>Author</b> Burnelli
<b>Fandom/Pairing</b> Original Fiction. Drake Markovski/Allissian Rosetti/Isaac Graise
<b>Theme</b> Set one. Prompt 29 - Tattoos
<b>Warning/Notes</b> Language.

Drake got his first tattoo when he was sixteen. It was a club on the inside of his right upper arm. His mother didn’t know about it. No one knew about it. He got it done at a friend’s house. He knew it wasn’t the smartest idea, but he didn’t care. He was pissed. He was <I>fucking</I> pissed. His father had just gotten arrested, and his best friend was beginning to abandon him. Isaac was spending more and more time doing work that Drake saw as just a way to get out of town -- to get out of the shit hole that they had been born into.

Then again, Isaac wasn’t born into a shit hole. He had money. His parents were aloof, but he didn’t have the accent. People didn’t assume he was a dumb hick.

Everyone assumed Drake was a dumb hick, and he hated it.

It was at Ian’s house, and Ian’s older sister was the one who scratched the symbol into Drake’s arm. It hurt like hell, but, afterwards, Drake was proud. He might not have control over much, but he did have control over his body and that was going to have to mean something.

Of course, everything wasn’t actually as terrible as it seemed when he was sixteen. Drake has had the club touched up as a reminder of that time in his life. Others have made the comment of getting a cover up for it. There was little thought put into, they say. Drake answers by saying that there might not have been much meaning in it originally, but meaning has been imbued into it. He couldn’t get rid of being sixteen, and he couldn’t think of getting rid of that painful scar.

The trend that he started with the club has only continued as he aged. Most of his tattoos have meaning like that; they represent a very specific moment in time which would explain why he was sitting in a chair now and making small talk with the young girl who was setting up her needles.

He knew she was biting her tongue concerning the cliché that was the tattoo she was about to do. A triquetra was nothing exciting or new for a mid-twenty-something to get. Drake was glad that she kept her commentary to herself. He didn’t really want to explain what he was doing. He was, as many people he has met over his life have said, a private person.

The connecting symbol was going on the inside of his left wrist. That side was the closest to his heart. With the watch he normally wore, it could be covered up, a fact he didn’t really like but took into consideration concerning his field of study. Rarely were scientists held in esteem, let alone hired, if there was too much ink to be seen.

In a few months he was getting married. Legally, he was changing his name to match that of his boyfriend. Legally, he was going to be giving that name to his wife. Realistically, a huge party was being thrown for him and his two best friends.

He smiled as the pretty young thing told him that she was going to do the first line, was he ready? Pfft. Was he ready? He’d done this before, but his stomach clenched up. People always said that a guy should never get a tattoo for a relationship. He wasn’t worried though. Even, if for reasons he could never foresee, something happened, this would just be another relic concerning his life. He was a road map of colorful scars that pointed all through out his twenty-five years of life.

Just like that first one, no one was going to know about this one until he showed them.