moon haven

the space between them vanished the exact moment the request left her lips. jax moved in, his fingers lifting the dark silk of her hair away from the nape of her neck to clear a path. his thumb found the metallic teeth of the fastener at her collar, and with a slow, deliberate downward pull, he parted the fabric. his knuckles tracked the velvet heat of her spine as the gown yielded, unzipping down her back. he let his hands anchor on her bare shoulders, leaning down to press a soft peck right between her shoulder blades. only then did he let her slide away toward the closet.

jax hated that tiny, cautious note in her voice. it struck like a fragile, bracing frequency that had no business existing within the quiet sanctuary of their bedroom, and certainly not because of the people who shared his last name. if only it were so simply to impress on his parents that when he looked at her he didn’t see the ghost of whatever history she kept behind lock and key; he simply saw his wife. jagger truly believed, perhaps naively, there couldn't be any skeleton in her closet so nightmarish that it would alter the intensity of his adulation.

his mother’s petty, sixty second inspections down at the estate were nothing more than a pathetic coping mechanism; a realization that the family empire held absolutely zero leverage over the newlyweds. but jax knew his family too well to offer false comfort. "unfortunately, they aren't just talking out of their asses, flo," he admitted, his voice dropping into a serious register. when his father threatened to dig into someone's life, it usually meant a check had already been cut to a private investigator. it was his standard corporate armor; the man truly believed every human problem could be resolved with a thick folder and a team of expensive lawyers. if jax were to demand he call them off, it would only signal to his father that he had successfully struck a nerve. the old man would dig twice as deep, hunting for any wedge he could drive between them. they were desperately waiting for her to evaporate, simply because they couldn't comprehend a person who refused to bow to their bank account.

jax stepped right back into her space, closing the remaining distance until the fluid silk of her robe brushed against his jeans. he caught her hands in his, reversing their positions so he could look straight down into her eyes. it was the physical premise of a ritual; a quiet, devotional act that smoothly transitioned into lingering lips against her skin before he lifted her hands to rest flat against his chest, right over his heartbeat. "let them dig," he coaxed gently, sliding his hands up from her wrists to cradle the sides of her face, his thumbs sweeping across her cheekbones to soothe away the residual tension. "it won't change a damn thing."

he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers for a second, letting her feel the absolute certainty in his posture. when he pulled back just enough to look at her, he offered a slow, reassuring smile, the kind that usually signaled he was about to charm his way through a crisis. "we don't need them to listen to us. we just need to give them nothing to hold onto." he wrapped his arms fully around her waist, pulling her flush against him until there was no air left between them. then buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. "besides, the real crime of the night was that salmon," he joked, his tone lifting as his teeth lightly grazed the soft skin of her neck to punctuate his jest. "god, i hate seafood, and i'm starving."

Flora had to believe that the truth wouldn't change anything. Jax adored her. She could see that he adored her. She could feel it! She hadn't lied to him about anything throughout their relationship. They weren't perfect, they'd argued and annoyed each other, but they hadn't lied just to keep the peace. And after each petty spat, they always ended up wrapped around each other once again. So, Flora believed her husband when it say it wouldn't change anything. With her hands on his chest, she tapped a soft pattern against his chest, mirroring his heartbeat.

"They will find things," Flora said slowly, looking up at Jax. "Shall I tell you now or..." She trailed off, trying to sound casual. There was nothing to worry him about. She simply needed a chance to explain, but it didn't have to be now. His father would probably try and get Jax alone when he got results. So, she just needed to explain before that happened. When he pulled her closer, Flora's arms wound around his neck, pulling him down to her height as he kissed her neck. "I'll make you something, and we can talk...yes?" Flora wasn't the typical housewife, but she did enjoy feeding her man. Especially after a family dinner where his clueless parents served him something he didn't like.

Flora moved her hands to his face, pulling him back to kiss his mouth, before twirling out of his hold and moving towards the kitchen. "Come, vita mia, let me feed my husband." Perhaps he meant he was feeling a different type of hunger, but they'd get to that later. After she told him the full truth.

⸻ When he tightens his grip on her waist, drawing her into a closer, more synchronized orbit, he does so with an easy confidence that leaves no room for awkward friction. He moves fluidly, swaying to the rhythm while softly singing the lyrics under his breath a boy completely ruled by the music in his veins. For Alice, matching this shift requires a seamless blend of her natural grace and sharp coordination. Alice shakes her head, a genuinely amused smile creeping onto her crimson lips. ❛ You are incredibly funny, Kekoa. ❜ She admits, her voice carrying a rare warmth. Typically, at events of this scale, Alice prefers a swift, calculated exit. She rarely stays late unless the social capital is exceptionally high or the company is undeniably worth the expenditure of her time, both of which are rare occurrences in her world. Tonight, however, she is deliberately breaking her own operational routine. Her analytical mind is always seeking new experiences and a fresh perspective outside her rigid corporate comfort zone. She glances past his shoulder toward her table in the corner, tracking Danilo. Her massive bodyguard is executing a textbook undercover detail, casually eating a plate of reception food while keeping his gaze strictly anchored on her safety.

"Yeah?" Kekoa asked, pleasantly surprised. It was clear that Alice loved to dance, and was great at it, but he was kind of surprised to hear that she liked the idea of a choreographed dance at her future wedding. "Exactly that! I even want to do one with my grooms-people," Because, of course, there would be women in his party. "Like a hula dance, to tie in my Hawaiian culture... but I don't know if I'll be able to get everyone on board with it." Kekoa laughed. "My future spouse, though, I hope they're into it. Something classic, that we don't get embarrassed about when we watch the home videos." It would be well done, that was for sure.

"What about you? Thinking of a Samba? Keeping it classic or, oh, starts as a Samba but breaks out into, like, a hip hop number?" Kekoa waggled his brows playfully.

"ah, a clean slate can be a remarkably heavy thing to carry, but it is also a tremendous piece of architecture." he looked out toward the horizon where the emerald trees of the pacific northwest met a pale sky, his expression softening with a striking amount of understanding before letting out a soft, amused chuff at her mention of ritualistic purification. "i am noting that down immediately. if louisa starts levitating her plush toys, you will be my absolute first call, sage in hand. but in all seriousness, susie...the beautiful thing about a town built on this kind of soil is that it doesn't rush you. when you've spent a lifetime moving through shifting sands or asphalt that never stays still, a place that just...exists can feel almost jarring. but it lets you plant whatever you want."

he shifted slightly on the wooden bench, his long legs stretching out in front of him as he balanced his papers with an easy, practiced familiarity. he didn't push into the shadows of her past, he knew the shape of an old ache when he heard one, the quiet guard up around a story not yet ready to be told. so he simply met her where she was, offering a gentle, lanky shrug. "as for navigating a community this compact? my best counsel is to let the smallness of it become a safety net rather than a cage. in a massive city, your struggles are entirely swallowed by the noise. here, if you stumble, someone usually notices. not out of malice, but because people here have a wonderful habit of looking after one another."

he turned his head to look at her, his eyes warm behind his reading glasses. "don't rush the reunion with your folks, either. history has a way of settling into its proper place when the timing aligns. just focus on building the foundation of your new home first. and now that we've become acquainted, my office door over in the anthropology department is always unlocked. i keep an extraordinarily comfortable armchair in the corner and a stash of remarkably good tea that the dean doesn't know about. you are welcome to hide out there whenever you require a breath of fresh air."

"Looking after one another?" Susie repeated, an edge of disbelief to her tone. Now, she knew there were good people in the world. Good people had helped get her here. Good people had shouldered her burden with her so that she could get sole custody of Gaia. But it was still hard to believe there were others out there, just waiting to help pick a stranger up when she fell. "I think that's going to take some getting used to..." Susie chuckled. "But I appreciate the advice... it's good advice." And she was going to do her best to take it to heart.

"I don't want her to miss much more time with them," Susie mused, motioning towards where Gaia was still swinging. "They've missed her entire life... I'm biased, I know, but that's not fair to them." She cracked a small smile. "And it's not fair to her... she deserves to have family... more than just me." Susie sighed. "You're right, though, I shouldn't rush it. There's plenty of time to figure it all out." She was very close to ready to see Sher and Saffy. Just a few more days of gathering herself, and she'd be ready to see them.

Looking over at Lukas, Susie gave him the most genuine smile of the day. "I really appreciate that," She said earnestly. "And I'll likely take you up on that offer... you are surprisingly easy to talk to." In her experience, a man this tall and handsome didn't usually possess the kind card. "Thanks for the advice," Susie reached over to squeeze him forearm in thanks. "I'm glad we're working semi together." Or, at least, in close proximity to each other.

jagger copeland ( @ j.copeland ) posted 2 hours ago : testing out the new lens on my favorite view. @moonhxven

shreya bristled slightly at the self evaluation, a quiet frown tugging at the corner of her mouth. even knowing kick was entirely immune to self pity and beautifully careless about public perception, she still harbored a protective streak against him minimizing his own worth. with a faint, dismissive huff, she shifted her weight on the damp earth, her thumb cycling through the calibration menus of her handheld sensor.

"you don't have a simple brain, you have a distinct one. and even if it was simple, under the current socioeconomic climate, your refusal to overcomplicate existence is probably a superior evolutionary survival strategy. some of us are cursed with an internal monologue that functions like a broken news ticker." she didn't say the rest of it, that his easy presence was precisely why she didn't mind him crashing her solitary nighttime expeditions. while her own mind was a grinding machine of anxieties and hyperfixations, kick simply was he was a steady, warm coordinate in a town that often felt entirely too predictable and claustrophobic.

"thé matcha 26," she corrected softly, a small smile finally slipped past her guard as she watched him snap his fingers in triumph. "it relies on a bitter orange and cedar profile to cut the sweetness of the fig notes. and you're entirely right to save your money. the entire fragrance industry is built on the psychological illusion of exclusivity, and i highly doubt the local beetle population cares whether you smell like an expensive tea leaf or standard convenience store soap." she watched him pivot toward the ancient mausoleum, his entire posture locking into a display of intense, almost absurd concentration. for someone who usually moved through the world with an easy, sprawling sort of chaos, watching him handle her cheap plastic specimen vial with the fragile reverence of an artifact collector was fascinating.

as the heavy, mineral laden droplets of moisture slowly slid down the mossy granite lip and plinked into the container, his whispered exclamation made her peer closer. the moonlight caught the sudden, childish gravity on his face. "congratulations, you are officially a certified assistant field technician. don't let the power go to your head," she teased, her smile stretching just a fraction wider in the dark.

"Daaamn, girl," Kekoa laughed. "You just got a rolodex of perfume scent profiles up in that head of yours?" That wasn't surprising, honestly. He was entirely certain Shreya had a rolodex stuffed full of every type of fact known to man. He needed to pull her in on the trivia game he and his granny went to twice a month. She'd be an excellent addition to team Kicky-Lou. But that was a conversation for later after he made sure he didn't mess up her entire experiment.

"Shouldn't have said that," Kekoa replied, making sure he didn't break his concentration and accidentally shift the vial. "It's already going to my head... I'm literally about to hulk out with power." He liked when people told him he was doing a good job at something. Kekoa Reyna was a man who did a lot every single day, and for the most part he didn't need the praise. His daily tasks were repetitive and he knew he was doing them well. But who didn't like a little praise every now and again? Who didn't want to be reminded that they were making a difference, even if it was a tiny one.

With the vial filled to the marked line, Kekoa quickly recapped it and held it up in triumph. "Liquid gold, baby!" He declared, pumping his free fist in the air. "We're saving the bugs!"

juniper watched him through narrowed eyes as his laughter finally began to subside, her chin remaining wedged into her palm while her fountain pen hummed a quiet pattern against the leather casing of her notebook. the theatrical outrage on her face slowly dissolved, returning to that familiar, deep pool of characteristically quiet observation. "you are entirely too pleased with yourself for having nearly induced a cardiac event in a recluse," she huffed, lips jutting forth in a indignant pout. and do not look so smugly toward the future. the unconscious mind is a vast, terrifying labyrinth, sachin. you might wake up at fifty with an overwhelming urge to torch an opera house, and i shall be forced to tell the authorities that i saw the early warning signs right here on my sofa."

she let the silence stretch for a moment, her gaze drifting down to her own ink stained fingertips. when he spoke of the multi generational rot, the terrifying cycle of terrible fathers paving the way for monstrous sons, her dark eyes flared with a cold, analytical focus that traditionally dominated her world building sessions. "the father’s hidden transgressions...yes," she mused, an evocative whisper as her mind immediately began to weave the concept into the lineage of house blackwood. "that is the true horror of the aristocracy. the inheritance isn't merely the gold or the land; it is the systemic erasure of sin. a lineage built upon a foundation of ghosts whose screams were simply bought and paid for before they could reach the town square. lord julian’s father wouldn't just ignore the horse in the ravine; he would have likely drowned a few peasants in his own youth and had the magistrates declare it a poor swimming season."

she shifted her figure, the tiered layers of her skirt rustling like dry autumn leaves against the floorboards as she leaned back into the velvet cushions. hearing him muse about the hypothetical modern justice of the internet and the idea of digital exile and a public reckoning provoked a faint, thoroughly cynical tilt of her head. "the court of public opinion is a volatile beast," she countered softly, her fingers absently tracing the edge of an unfinished page resting on the coffee table. "perhaps his name would be dragged through the digital mire, but men with that specific brand of armor rarely stay broken. they merely retreat into the shadows until the collective memory of the populace shifts to a new scandal, and then they emerge, entirely unblemished, to inherit the boardrooms anyway. it is a different kind of sanctuary than mine, but a sanctuary nonetheless."

"it is a lucky thing for the literary world that you were such a careless youth," she murmured, likely the only way she'd articulate the gratitude for the version of him that was currently sitting in her parlor. "otherwise, you would be entirely useless to my character development."

"He'd likely start a podcast," Sachin said, his nose wrinkled slightly. Wasn't that the gameplan of arrogant men who thought they knew better than everyone else? As well as the canceled, the ones who thought their misconduct was a learning opportunity for the people around them. Sachin stood firm in his belief that there were very few people in this world who actually needed a podcast. A vast majority of the population didn't actually have anything that interesting to say. And, yet, every other day there was a new idiot with a microphone thinking he had the answers to all the worlds problems. Sachin snorted, adding on, "Or he'd find Jesus and write a self-help book..." He could only imagine.

Sachin turned his head to look at Juniper again, a playful tilt to his lips. "Juniper, darling, must we go over this again?" He sighed dramatically, pushing himself up from the chair so that he could cross the room and invade her personal space if only for a moment. "I am one of the most useful people in your life. That is the perk of having a friend." He waggled his brows. "Dare I say... no, no, I won't say it..." He shook his head, waving his hands, really amping up the drama. "No!" He declared. "I shall say it, because I know you won't."

"The perk of having a best friend..." Sachin winked, leaning over into her space to quickly peck her temple before he stood up, taking their empty tea cups into the kitchen. "I know it's true, Junie, don't deny it."

𝕆ℙ𝔼ℕ   ||   pinehaven   carnival;   anyone's   welcome. @pinehavenstarters

strangely   amos   found   himself   in   a   better   mood.   at   least,   he   found   himself   settling   in   and   already   comfortable   enough   with   the   gathered   crowd   at   the   festival   to   be   a   bit   more   present   amongst   them.   with   cotton   candy   tinting   his   lips   with   a   lingering   shade   of   pink,   a   piece   of   it's   fluff   still   stuck   to   the   stubble   over   his   upper   lip,   he   found   himself   settling   into   line   for   the   tea   cups   with   a   rare,   relaxed   smile. despite   how   loud   and   busy   it   seemed   this   place   wasn't   so   bad. he   could   get   used   to   pinehaven. he   could   do   this. whatever   confidence   he   had   in   that   moment,   if   you   could   even   call   it   that,   abandoned   ship   the   second   he   got   to   the   front   of   the   line   and   was   stopped   when   he explained   he   was   riding   alone.   “i   recognize   you   think   it's   more   fun   with   someone   else   but   i-   i   ain't   got   anyone   else.   i   don't   know   anyone,”   he   tried   to   politely   explain   that   he   was   new   in   town   and   didn't   have   anyone   to   ask   to   ride   with   him--   and   even   if   he   did   know   someone,   he   should   have   still   been   able   to   ride   alone,   but   they   insisted.   he   needed   someone   to   ride   with   him.   it   wouldn't   be   as   fun   if   he   didn't.

“alright,   alright.   if   you   can   find   me   someone,”   amos   started   to   give   in   only   to   dip   his   head   forward   and   hide   behind   the   brim   of   his   stetson   as   the   attendant   yelled   out   that   they   had   a   single   rider   looking   for   a   partner.   “you   didn't   have   to   go   and   do   all   that…” this   was   why   he   preferred   keeping   to   himself. thankfully   someone   was   kind   enough   to   put   him   quickly   out   of   his   misery   and   stepped   up   to   join   him.   “i--”   the   rest   of   his   words   reduced   to   a   huff   as   he   pursed   his   lips   and   looked   up   at   them   with   furrowed,   uncomfortable   brows   as   the   attendant   told   them   they   were   good   to   climb   into   their   teacup;   and   to   have   fun.   “you   didn't   have   to   do   that,”   he   mumbled   the   offering   to   the   person   walking   with   him,   not   the   attendant.   “but   thank   ya.”

Odette decided that she would ride a single ride and then call it a night. Maybe she would text Noah or City, tell them she'd had a blast at the carnival. Maybe that would make her feel accomplished, even if it wasn't the truth. Even if Noah, certainly, would be able to read through the lie with ease. Odette was contemplating her exit when a ride attendant appeared right in front of her. "Single rider?" He asked, staring down at her. Odette blinked, nodding slowly. Her face began to heat, and she quickly glanced around. People were staring at her. The whole line was staring at her as the man unhooked a rope and ushered her through.

"Oh, no, no," Odette stammered, waving her hands. "I-I want to wait in line..." Her heart was hammering in her chest and the panicked thoughts of everyone is going to think I cut the line were racing through her head. But there was nothing she could do. She was already being guided into the ride and being told to buckle in for safety. She stared wide eyed at the other rider. "I-I didn't cut... that man he..." She trailed off, sure that he'd seen the whole thing happen.

Ringing her hands together, Odette tried to force herself to settle. "Everything is fine," She said, more to herself than the man next to her. "This is fun..." She glanced over, trying to smile. "Are you having fun?"

@moonhxven

the copper tang of a looming storm hung low over pinehaven, bleeding a bruised twilight across the front porch. when the deadbolt finally clicked and the heavy oak door swung inward, esme didn't move from her spot on the sofa. she just leaned back, watching ebon freeze with his hand still clamped tight on the brass doorknob, taking in the sudden shift in his living room. she had already made herself entirely at home, a half eaten sandwich sitting casually on a plate beside her on the coffee table like a monument to her trespass. had she given her brother an warning whatsoever during their facetime no more than 48 hours ago that she was coming? of course not, where was the fun in that? esme tracked his eyes as they swept the room, watching the exact moment they landed right on her. she let a wicked grin spread across her face, deliberately adjusting her weight against his cushions.

"took you long enough," she teased, her voice trilling with the vibrant adrenaline of a perfectly executed ambush. "i've been waiting here for ages." she paused for a fraction of a heartbeat, letting him swallow the sheer impossibility of her presence, utterly eager to bypass the tedious track of hows and whys so they could skip right to the fiercely warm reunion she'd been craving. "you're wondering how i got in?" esme gestured with her chin toward the far side of the room, pointing up toward the landing where the second floor window sat slightly ajar, the curtains fluttering softly in the damp breeze.

"well, i knocked. no answer. and since the concept of waiting on a porch in this miserable rain makes me incredibly impatient, i improvised," she said, leaning back and resting her cheek against her knuckles. "i scaled the trellis, hooked a heel over the gutter, and slid right through the second story window. standard acrobatics, really." she offered a careless shrug, as if the image of her dangling precariously in the storm wasn't entirely unhinged. "I do acknowledge that there was probably a vastly more rational, dignified way to break into your home, but honestly, by the time the regret set in, i was already inside." she dropped her arm, meeting his gaze with all the restless energy she'd been harboring since she crossed the town line. "so, surprise."

Ebon had gotten off hours ago and had been planning on heading straight home. Until, in the last fifteen minutes of his shift, Ada Sora had strolled in with that no nonsense determined expression on her face. She'd headed straight down an aisle, a flick of her wrist in his direction by way of greeting, and Ebon had immediately followed behind her. And because the woman was god damn determined to kill herself... he'd followed behind her back to her place as soon as he clocked out. Now, hours later, he was finally home.

His gaze immediately fell on the figure sprawled across his couch as soon as the door swung open. Ebon didn't panic, he simply blinked in confusion. It took three heartbeats for it to register that his younger sister was sitting in his living room, another three to realize she'd scaled the house and climbed in through the fucking window, and another three for him to actually react. "What the fuck?" Ebon asked, genuinely flabbergasted.

Luckily for Esme, he'd never been cross at her a day in his life and he sure as hell wasn't about to start now. Not when it had been months since he'd seen her in the flesh. He didn't care how she'd gotten her, or why she was here. She was here and that's all that mattered to Ebon. In three long strides he was across the room, hauling Esme up by her arm and wrapping her in a bear hug. "Don't do that shit again, Me..." He said into her hair. Ebon kissed her forehead as he released her, then sat down heavily on the couch to take his boots off.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. "Everyone's okay? Mom?" Ebon doubted she'd have waited to tell him in person if something had happened to their mother, but he still had to ask. He hoped to god this was simply a social call, and his sister wasn't here bearing bad news. Turning his full attention to his sister he asked, "Most importantly, how long are you staying?"

vada’s lips twitched into the faintest silhouette resembling a smile, though she expertly smothered it before it could compromise her icy veneer. "blissful ignorance is an incredibly high risk lifestyle strategy, katherine. I strongly advise against making it your default setting." as they moved toward the north pavilion, the oppressive fragrance of overheated asphalt began to give way to a dense, conflicting wall of hot wax, essential oils, and concentrated vanilla. vada’s posture remained straight, a solitary pillar of precise tailoring navigating a sea of loose fitting cotton and sun flushed skin. "a retractable chain would merely provide ajani with a tool to accidentally slingshot his keys directly into a jar of tattoo pigment," she remarked dryly, adjusting the strap of her bag as a particularly boisterous toddler darted across their trajectory. "the man remains a perpetual casualty of his own spatial disorientation."

she absorbed the information regarding the previous year’s olfactory merchandise with an expression of predictable skepticism. the words strawberry and fig conjured an immediate mental image of cheap, cloying synthetic fragrance oils designed to mask the odor of damp basements, rather than anything that belonged in a civilized residence. "strawberry and fig sounds dangerously close to a room spray deployed in a department store restroom to obscure a plumbing malfunction," vada countered, her tone clipped yet conversational as she deftly steered them past a display of hand carved wooden strawberries. "heaven, assuming it operates on a standard of luxury befitting an afterlife, should smell of cedar, freshly pressed stationery, and zero humidity."

they reached the threshold of the artisan tent, and vada paused, her eyes immediately scanning the rafters for visible fire extinguishers and tracing the extension cords snaked across the grass. her internal checklist of municipal code violations was already blinking in rapid succession, yet her pace didn't slacken as she moved deeper into the heat of the pavilion. "if this sweet little old woman is utilizing zinc core wicks or pouring her wax into structurally compromised vintage jelly jars, your celestial fragrance is nothing more than a poorly disguised incendiary device," vada noted, though her eyes lingered on a display of minimal, amber glass jars a few booths down that didn't look completely catastrophic. she tilted her head, her assessment shifting into something resembling mild approval. "let's investigate that stall first. it looks remarkably promising, and at the very least, their setup doesn't look like an active threat to public safety."

"Nooo..." Kitty argued, shaking head. "It was so good... like you could tell she didn't just dump those cheap Amazon essential oils into the pot and call it a day. It was, like, she knew scents... trust me, okay, it was good." She knew good scents, too, because she'd done a lot of research on perfumes as part of her channel. Kitty loved smelling good, and she liked to think she knew what was good. Scents were subjective, naturally, but still, she thought she had good taste. "You might be right about Heaven, though, very, like, clean and universal... who doesn't love the smell of freshly pressed stationery and the pages of a book?"

Kitty took a deep breath in when they entered the tent, all the different strawberry infused smells hitting her all at once. It was a lot, but she didn't mind it. It smelled like hours of hard work and passion to her. Kitty followed Vada's lead, moving towards the booth the other woman pointed out. Immediately, she picked up a candle and brought it to her nose for a sniff. "Mmm..." She held it out towards Vada. Kitty smiled at the woman behind the table as she started explaining her scents and the process she used. "It smells like..." She pursed her lips in thought, taking another whiff of the candle. "Like a strawberry limeade... what do you think?"

orion listened quietly, her fingers idly rolling the smooth barrel of her pen as kitty spoke of the weight of permanence. it was a common hesitance, a rational fear of committing a unchangeable truth to a canvas that was constantly aging, changing, and moving through the world. but kitty's concern didn't seem born out of a fear of the physical sting; it came from a place of empathetic consideration, a reluctance to undo a piece of shared history, to wipe away a creation forged by a friend’s hand. "regret is a heavy thing to carry, but laser removal is worse," orion noted, her gaze drifting back down to the tiny, charcoal smudged sun on the paper.

she looked up as kitty measured her growing certainty with two closely pressed fingers. a warmth settled behind orion's ribs at the realization that her quick, spontaneous sketch had bridged the gap between kitty's indecision and absolute certainty. to be trusted with the architecture of a person's sacred memories, especially a legacy as tightly knit as the coltrane sisters, was a gravity she didn't take lightly.

"placement is just a matter of listening to the anatomy," orion murmured, her hand gesturing faintly toward the space between them. "a design built around kinetic energy needs room to flow. you can't trap a dance in a corner where the skin doesn't move." she reached out, her pale fingertips hovering just inches away from the soft curve of kitty's inner forearm, tracing an invisible line from the wrist up toward the crook of the elbow.

"if you put it somewhere flat and rigid, the figures will stiffen," she explained softly, her focus entirely locked into the technical, intuitive mapping of the human frame. "but if you place it here, along the inner arm, or even the back of the calf, the design will warp and bend with your natural alignment. every time you reach for something, or turn your wrist, the lines will stretch. you won't just be wearing a picture of a dance. the ink will actually be dancing with you."

Holding out her arm as Orion explained how the lines would move with her, Kitty actually felt a little choked up. She was already an emotional person when it came to matters of the heart, and her sister was a physical form of her heart walking around on Earth, but Kitty was also a few drinks deep. No where near drunk, but perhaps a little quicker to cry than she usually would be. Turning her arm this way and that, she could almost see the two dancing figures there on her skin.

"You need a raise," Kitty laughed, blowing out a breath, and snapping her fingers. "I'm calling Marcus, like, tomorrow!" One conversation with Orion and she was basically ready to book an appointment. Kitty wanted to go find her sister right now and tell her the exact things Orion had just said. Convince her once and for all that getting a tattoo of their favorite picture, wouldn't be a mistake.

"And when we do come get these," Kitty went on. "Because at this point, it's a when, not an if... when we come in... I'm bringing donuts... no cake! That honey cake from Mamaw Grace..." She nodded, already deciding. She was going to come in with a cake, her best friend in the entire world, and a big ass tip.