Inked [1x1]

romamaro

Well-Known Member
Otto stepped into the coffee shop, letting the smell of coffee beans and baked goods flow all around him. Ethelene's Café was probably one of his most favourite places in town; the quiet atmosphere, the delicious brownies, and the constant delicious smells all joined together to be one of, in his humble opinion, the best places in town. He tousled a hand through his dark brown hair as he walked up to the counter. There wasn't a line, thankfully. "Hey, Cyril," he said to the barista.
"Oh, hey Ott," the blonde haired barista replied, already picking up a mug. "Black coffee, yeah?" He assumed.
Otto nodded. "As always."

Five minutes later, Otto was sat at a two-person table near the wall. He sat the coffee onto the table, pulling his brown messenger bag onto his lap. He dug into the crowded bag and pulled out a very well kept book. It was titled 'Practicing Inking Design'. He pulled out a pencil case next, then flipped a few pages forward. 'A woman has come out of an abusive relationship' was typed across the top of the page. Otto chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking hard. He clicked his mechanical pencil and then went to work drawing an elephant onto the page, sipping his coffee as he went.
 
In the time from when Otto had entered the coffee shop and the time that Laila had entered, a line had begun to form and the cafe was crowded. The blonde woman was lugging around a backpack that was stuffed full. Even with it properly on her back, it still weighed her down a little and she was eager to put it down. She ordered her coffee and once she had it in hand, the woman scanned the room looking for an available seat.

Most had arrived with someone else and so the only option was a table with the only person sitting by himself, sketching quietly. Awkwardly the woman approached and cleared her throat, "Mind if I share?" She indicated the table and then turned so he could see the tumor that was her backpack. "I won't be a bother," she added, quickly. She just needed some room to write and flip through her research books.
 
Otto didn't seem to notice how quickly the shop filled up, entirely engrossed in the tiny details in the animal. He didn't even notice he was being spoken to until he saw the huge bag move out of the corner of his eye. He jumped and lifted his head, curly hair bouncing. "Oh! Yeah, go ahead," he said, moving his pencil case so there was more room on the table. "I'm just doing some design practice," he said with a small smile, tapping the nearly finished drawing lightly with his pencil.
 
She let out a sigh of relief; her back was really beginning to ache and she dropped the bag unceremoniously on the floor. "Thanks," she huffed, stretching out her back before leaning over and looking at the design. "An elephant because they never forget?" She joked. "Laila," she introduced herself before sitting down and grabbing her own materials: a black and a red pen, a legal pad, and a thick reference book. "Just doing some writing," She explained and then laughed. He the artist and she the writer, sharing a table.
 
Otto laughed. "Well, that could be a part of it," he admitted finishing off the details. "Elephants are strong, but naturally pacifistic. These books aren't that good. They don't give you enough details to do something really big." He quickly scribbled down an explanation of the mark before flipping the page. "Otto," he said with a nod, rolling his sleeves up. His eyebrows raised at the large amount of supplies. "You're an author, then?" He assumed, taking a sip of his coffee. "What sort of stuff do you write?"
 
Green eyes glanced down at the ink on Otto's arms, as was customary. Not a lot showing, but that didn't mean he had more to tell. Nothing in plain view that indicated he was married, though, so a little harmless flirting with the dark haired inker wasn't completely out of the question. "Mm, practice books never do. Children's books, mostly. I'm trying to write an adult novel," she gestured to the materials in front of her, "but I always get stuck around the ending so my legacy will be educating the future by teaching them obvious morals." She flashed a toothy grin.
 
Otto nodded, interested. His eyebrow quirked at the phrase 'adult novel', but he didn't ask. He laughed. "I see," he said, lifting his head to try and peek at the legal pad. "I'm sure you can figure something out. What do you want the ending to be? Any idea?" He asked with a tilt of his head.
 
She saw the look on his face and laughed again. "Not like that that, just something geared for adults. Kind of a fantasyesque type thing." The blonde rolled her eyes and then covered her legal pad, protectively with one arm, wagging a finger at him with the other. "No peeking. That's the problem, I don't know how I want it to end, so I get stuck somewhere in the middle with nowhere to go, lacking an end result." Gesturing around the crowded cafe, "I thought a change of scenery would help."
 
He laughed again. "Sounds like something I'd read, then," he said. Though he wasn't that much of a reader (apart from the skinbooks, which he had to read) anything he did read would usually end up being fantasy. He raised his hands in mock surrender, sinking back into his chair. "Alright, alright." He took another sip of his coffee, pondering. He looked around the cafe. "You've never been here? It's great, really. I always come if I need to feel more 'creative', or something." He made finger quotes around the word creative, and laughed.
 
"I'll expect you to buy it then," She smiled. "First time, actually." She glanced around the room, taking in the cozy atmosphere. "I walk by it nearly every day, though. Does it? Make you feel more creative, I mean?" She could see it having that affect on people, and hoped if she came back here it would work for her. "Got any other creativity tips?" Her writing was forgotten for the moment, and she sipped at her own coffee.
 
Otto nodded. "It really does," he said with a smile. He considered for a few moments, another few sips of coffee. "Well, when I was training to be an inker, they trained us how to get totally immersed in what we were doing." He started to flick back through the exercise book. "It's like entering a trance. Everything really improves when you're deep into one. Here, check this." He turned the book around so that Laila could see the design. The whole page was taken up with a dynamic fight between an owl and a raven, though it was somehow clear that the owl was going to win. The prompt was 'An ex-blank who wants to show their loyalty.' "I was maybe five hours into a trance while I was doing this one, so it's one of my better works."
 
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Laila leaned forward, examining the drawing. She kept her face perfectly impassive as he talk about ex-blanks. It was a subject that came up often and she'd long ago learned to control her facial expressions, but she was still surprised by how the word made her feel. "Hmm," she pondered. "I wonder if that's something I could try with my writing..." She was still staring at the design; it was impressive artwork. Finally she turned it back around toward it's owner. "It's beautiful." It was. It was sad, though, that it was never something that could be used as it wouldn't fit the individual. "How long have you been doing this?" She gestured toward the art book.
 
Otto smiled, his pride practically shining through his skin. "Well," his eyes drifted to his age tallies, specifically to the fourteenth one. He counted up with his finger. "I would doodle and stuff like that all through middle school, but in high school I figured out that I definitely wanted to be an inker. So, drawing for ten years, inking for four," he said with a nod, tapping his tallies and then returning to his coffee.
 
Laila set aside her own coffee, making a face. "I don't even like coffee," she admitted. "It just seemed the thing to do when I got here. Fourteen years, more than half your life," she made a rough count of his tallies before nodding. "And you look like you're still in love." She was a firm believer that one should love their job. The blonde leaned forward, "Is there any way I could get you to teach me that thing with the trance?"
 
Otto laughed. "They do have tea, you know," he said, pointing his thumb behind him in the general direction of the chalkboard menu. He nodded. "It can be stressful, sometimes. Sometimes people come to you and you just can't think of what would be best for them." He sighed and shrugged. He thought about it for a second, looking around the crowded café. "It's a bit more difficult when it's noisy," he said sheepishly, leaning over to his bag. He pulled it onto his lap, digging around for a moment before pulling out a full pack of earplugs. "These work pretty good, however." He set the bag down on the table, opening it up. He picked out a packet of the blue bits of foam, holding them out to Laila. "You don't need them, but they help a little. Don't put them in just yet, though."
 
Her gaze followed his thumb and she snorted, "Yes, I suppose they do but this is a coffee shop, I thought coffee was more appropriate." It totally had nothing to do with the fact that she didn't see tea on the list. Nope, not at all. "Hmm," she considered his profession, accepting the ear plugs. They were set down upon her legal pad, "What do you do when you can't think of appropriate ink?"
 
Otto smiled. "I suppose so," he said with a shrug. "Well, usually even when I know what would work, I don't ink them until a week or two later. I'll usually spend the next week stressing about it, and that usually brings an idea," he laughed, "so I'll call them back in then." He pulled out his own pair of earbuds. "Okay, have you ever meditated?" He asked.
 
She readied her own set of new earbuds and shook her head. "Not for a lack of trying, though.I just can never quiet my mind enough and so I usually end up giving myself anxiety rather than peace." She laughed, and focused on her teacher.
 
Otto smiled awkwardly, quelling a wince. "That's a bit unfortunate, because going into the trance is pretty similar," he said. "If you put the ear plugs in and close your eyes, you can focus on either the quiet or on the dark. As soon as you feel yourself calming down, open your eyes, start working, and don't look anywhere else apart from the page. The earplugs take sound out of the equation, and not engaging your other sentences make it easier for your brain to focus on the one thing." He slipped one of the ear plugs in as he spoke. "Did that make sense?"
 
"To be fair, I haven't tried it with the ear plugs and writing," I admitted. "And I probably only spent about five minutes on it before I gave up. I shrugged, "I'm willing to try anything though." She mimicked his movements, slipping in one ear plug as well. "I think so." She waited for an indication that she should put in the other.
 
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