make your mark

♦ about ♦

age: 24 relationship status: single education: wizarding academy of dramatic arts ‘76 occupation: tattooist

♦ recap ♦

With an enemy in Markus Scarrs, a few dead parents on her back, and a determination to finally own Tattwho, Cleo has enough on her plate already. She collects slights against her just as readily as the information she gleams from drunk patrons, or those who are much too lonely to go anywhere else other than the local pub.

She’s more than happy to stay in her cozy little job as a tattoo artist, with, of course, a bit of a side hustle on the side. Cleo has never been a stranger from committing a crime, and she has been more than happy to be a part of A.J.’s own smuggling schemes, especially as they continue to keep her pockets heavy.

With the introduction of people like Andromeda, who are more than happy to help her out with her hobby as a mechanic, or even those like Mio who want a foray into her world, Cleo has kept herself busy. Always busy. The more she works the better. The more information she has, the closer she is to being out underneath anyone’s thumb.

♦ dating history ♦

When: 27th March 1980

Where: The Church of the Holy Sorcerer, Cardiff

Who: Thalia Winters & Open (0/2)

“Fuck!” She had either slipped or been shoved as people panicked. The weather had been wonderful one minute, then it started snowing and lightning the next. What in the world was going on? But she wasn’t concerned about the weather at the moment; instead, she had fallen on her knee, resulting in a hole in her pants and a large scrape on her knee and down her right leg. She was bleeding profusely and it was extremely unpleasant; she needed to find a place where she could treat the wound.

She could see a church ahead that seemed like it was taking people in for safety, so she decided to try her luck there. She walked as steadily as she could with her injury, grateful that she had made it to the church without further injury and had dodged the lightning. She entered the church, looking for someone who appeared to be in charge, “Hi there. Do you know where I can find the first-aid kit?” She smiled at them, “I’ve hurt myself and want to clean up my injury.”

.

Cleo wanted to stab her own thinking, as the moment she saw a person injured, the only image that could flash in her mind was A.J. Fuck. She shook her head, trying to free up space in her brain for more than just unwanted daydreams and fantasies that had no current place in the situation that they had all found themselves in. Someone was fucking bleeding, she didn’t need to think about A.J’s hands, or their mouth, or their—

“Why don’t I take a look? I’m not a Healer, or a Doctor, but I am rather adept with a needle, and I’m used to the sight of blood.”

Calista wasn’t sure what to expect, but she was sure even if she did, she still wouldn’t have been prepared for the sensation that came next. It was like she was being compressed and pulled all at once. While it was happening, it felt like an eternity, but once it was over she knew it hadn’t even been a second. “Oh, oh, god,” she said as she stumbled slightly, one hand on her stomach, and another over her mouth before she bent over and did exactly that in a corner of the alley they were in. 

She stood up straight once she was sure she was done and looked back. “I guess that’s something you get used to.”

.

“Come along, I’ll get you a glass of water, and then you can tell me exactly what sort of design you had in mind.” This time, instead of an arm, Cleo offered the woman her hand. Gloved, of course. But still, she wasn’t there to scare her. In many ways, this was a business decision. Bring one muggle in, and the rest could eventually follow. “I promise, I don’t bite.”

Calista looked at her arm and then back at the woman as she gave her instructions. “Erm, no. I don’t even know what that means,” she admitted. She went ahead and took her arm, regardless, though. 

.

With a hint of mischief, and more than a little mirth, she dragged both of them through space and time, and into the back alley behind Tattwho. She looked at Calista, waiting to see just how the girl would fair, knowing that warnings were pointless with something like this. It was best to just let people be sick, and get it over with. “I recommend vomiting.”

“Why not?’’ asked Calista. Perhaps, it was stupid of her to suddenly put her trust in a complete stranger like that. Not just a stranger, but one from a different world entirely. However, Calista felt that when it came to art, art was always a true indicator of who people were, especially the artist. She couldn’t help but feel drawn to the woman one way or another. It was rare for her to meet people who were so like minded in that way.

.

Cleo offered out her arm to the girl. It was more than a kind gesture, it was a decision that she’d let her make all on her own. “Grab my arm, and I’ll apparate us to my shop. I take it you’ve never done that before, either?” This would be fun.

Calista didn’t respond right away. Instead she was still looking at the art that moved so gracefully on her skin. Calista didn’t have any tattoos herself. She was a blank canvas still. However, it wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her in the past. “How would you like to try it out?”

.

“Are you offering to be my first non-magical subject? Fairly brave of you to go about something like that.” Cleo tilted her head one way, and then the other, sizing up the girl. She was pretty, there was no denying that. But what struck her most was the easy way in which she accepted this all. As if waiting for it to be true all along.

Calista wasn’t even going to get into asking what Transfiguration was or what that meant as far as magic. It felt like she might try and explain and she’d never get it. “You created this?” she asked, still wide eyed as could be. “So, because you add magic to the ink, does that meant you could do something like this on someone… like me, for example?” she asked curiously. 

.

“Easily, and gladly. Though, don’t get me wrong, it usually takes me longer to get the desired effect of the movement than ink would. It’s a two-pronged approach. But, yes. I don’t have any reason to believe it wouldn’t work on someone who isn’t magical.” And Cleo didn’t even really like that word, magical. It seemed to her that everyone had their own magic and power, even if it wasn’t the kind that came from a wand.

Calista look on with wide eyes as she observed the dragon moving. She had never see anything like it. Even moreso, she realized what this had to mean and she looked back at the girl. She could already hear the hushed whisperings she heard when she was at work about being wary of trusting magical people. Maybe it was naive of her, but she couldn’t help but be thrilled by the beauty of the moving art that adorned her skin rather than scared of the implications of it. 

“Ohmygod, this means you have to be– I mean, there’s no other way you would be able to make something move like that.” She reached out a hand as if wanting to touch it, before realizing it would probably be weird and pulled back. “Is this just something you do or can you make other… art move like this? Is it special paint or ink? Is this normal? I suppose it must be normal for you.”

.

Cleo remained unbothered, and refused to be flustered. This was the world they lived in now, and with her own parents having been non-magical, it seemed silly for Cleo to have anything to overtly worry about. Her life was her own, and this stranger was no threat. Just a girl. Curious, and open, and wasn’t what they all should’ve been striving for to begin with?

She was more than willing to answer the questions, all with her sleeve still firmly up. “This isn’t from special ink, it’s from an area of magic called Transfiguration. I take normal ink, and I use a few spells to turn it into something more. The practice is fairly new, considering I created the spell that does this. Maybe someone else has done something similar, but only I can create what you see in front of you.”

“Someday, hopefully. I’ve trips I’d like to properly fund, and tattoos to get, apparently.” 

.

“Sounds like you’ll know where to find me then, Sturgis Podmore.” She huffed out a laugh as she began to fade away back into the crowd. “Now, I’ve got to go see about a rather burly man who pushed me.” With a wink, Cleo was a gone, but the feeling she had had when touching Sturgis’ hand didn’t disappear. It lingered like bad cologne. No. She wouldn’t be forgetting him anytime soon.

Sturgis grinned wryly. “I suppose being a cash cow is better than a corpse.” 

.

“Oh, please tell me you’re rich.” That would be the best news she had gained from this horrible excursion. Nothing better than a potentially pliable mind that happened to have money behind it.

“Adventures, yes. Winding up dead, preferably no.” And despite the lightness of his words, Sturgis couldn’t help but feel some sense of pride in having that desire. 

.

Cleo waved him off, briefly remembering the sadness that lingered beneath his skin. “You won’t die. I love nothing more than a paying customer.” But Sturgis’ life was his own, and she wasn’t in the business of being pushy. People came to her. Not the other way around.

Sturgis blinked. “You know, if you’re trying to scare me off from my first tattoo, you’re doing a damn good job.” 

.

“For someone who claims to like adventure, you really aren’t adventurous.” Her judging look said it all. Mostly that she was fucking with him, but also, maybe he wouldn’t be so anxious about a place like Cardiff if he gave it all the proper change.

Sturgis arched a brow. “So it’s a competitive line of work?” Despite not wanting ink on his own body, he was interested in what Cleo had to say.  

.

“Used to be,” Cleo replied idly. “Until my competition wound up dead a few months back. I’d say I’m upset about it, but he was a racist twat, so why should I be?” The statement wasn’t entirely accurate. Something closer to the truth would’ve been revealing his side dealings. Or the nasty way his eyes roved over everything, as though gauging how much it might get him. Not to mention who gave him most of his business.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine that would be easy, doing your own tattoo. I haven’t got any, but I’ve heard it’s not pleasant, is it?” Calista wondered if over time it got easier to deal with, especially someone with as many as her. “Do you still work with oil paint or have you completed shifted to a human canvas?” 

.

She shrugged. “I barely feel it anymore. Truth be told, it’s more therapeutic than anything at this point. Something about the buzzing pain is almost calming.” Whether that meant she was going insane or not, that was for another day. “I haven’t actually painted anything in years. Especially not since I taught myself how to make everything move.”

Cleo shoved up her sleeve further, better revealing the dragon underneath. The only that curled around her arm. Breathing in and out. Fire practically shooting from its nostrils.

“You’re a tattoo artist?” A corner of his lips curled upward into a half-smile. He wondered how he would look, flesh littered with ink. Would people perceive him any different? Probably, he lamented. People were often superficial—himself included. “How does it make you feel if I say I’ve never gotten one?” 

.

“I’d say I’m not surprised.” She quirked a brow, knowing that first impressions were rarely correct, but over the years, Cleo had learned. “But also, I’m very jealous, and now if I ever see you again, and find out you’ve gone to someone else to one, I might not be so friendly anymore.” Cleo was neither jealous nor possessive, but they were fun words to say, or claim to be, so she said it anyway.

“Oh, did you do these yourself? Or design them?” she asked, gesturing to a visible tattoo. She had always wondered if artists themselves ever let others design their work or did it all themselves. She supposed, like any artist, it was all down to whatever they felt in the moment. “They’re gorgeous by the way. I’ve never thought to have any done.” 

.

“I design all of my own, but have someone else do them. It’s tricky, trying to do your own tattoos. Better to get someone else in so the line work is exactly how you want it.” Cleo was more than pleased at the subject change, her body a canvas, and she was more than willing to show it off. “I hadn’t thought about tattoos much either, and then it all sort of struck me, you know? Most of my life had been focused on oil paint and canvas. And then suddenly, here I am.”

“You probably could. I think I’m more of a lover than a fighter.” Sturgis smiled wryly. “I’m Sturgis, by the way. Sturgis Podmore.” 

.

“Cleo Nguyen. Next time you decide to brave the anxiety that is Cardiff, stop by Tattwho. I might even be generous and give you a discount on a tattoo.” She was very rarely generous, but for whatever reason, Sturgis Podmore didn’t immediately set off any alarm bells in her mind. He’d get this one offer, and that was it.