Caribou Coast

doeeyes. There was a ruthless, cruel python named Anxiety buried deep in Damian's brain, and it was currently wrapping itself around him, twisting and curling, squeezing until he became claustrophobic in his own body and the snake's grip deformed and crushed him mercilessly. It slithered up his torso, wound around his neck, leaned in towards his ear so it would be impossible to drown out, and then chanted in its rasp, low and malevolent: "You're going to fuck this entire day up and everyone's going to fucking hate you forever." In other words, he was really fucking nervous. Despite Ana's attempts to reassure him and the occasional breakthrough of logic that silenced the python (only for a few short seconds), Damian just couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong and it was going to be all his goddamn fault. You'd think he was tasked with saving the entire fucking city of Caribou Coast, rather than just hosting some fun tattoo contest. The fucking python didn't care what he was doing, Damian was its prey and that was all that mattered. That persistent mental itch began to scratch at the walls of his mind, another unignorable vice that plague his psyche: nicotine. He didn't even bring his cigarettes because he didn't want to expose a bunch of people to his cancerous bullshit, but knowing that they were gone seemed to make the demands even more relentless. But, hey, just because he was a wreck doesn't mean he wasn't gonna have fun. Once he sat down and made small talk with Ana while waiting for everyone to arrive, he found himself losing his anxious edge the slightest bit-- still, though, it never completely evaporated. But..he would be fine. Perfectly fine. He kept sending quick glances towards the door every few seconds, expecting it to fly open at any moment.

inkedd felt the most at home when she was wielding a tattoo gun and decorating someone with art they would carry until they were either burnt to a crisp or rotting in the dirt. She was fuckin' hyped about this contest; it was practically the only thing she had been talking about for the past week or so, and she was asking all of her clients at the tattoo shop if they were planning on being there. Of course she wanted to win as much as anyone else, but she was mainly excited about meeting new artists, running into familiar faces, and seeing all of the great artwork that people were going to be blessed to show off on their bodies forever. Damian, though..she knew he was excited, but dude was radiating nervousness like Chernobyl radiated nuclear waste. She didn't feel bad about pushing him out of his comfort zone and convincing him to host this, though; there was a butterfly hidden in that cocoon of his, and someone needed to pry it out because it probably wasn't going to be coming out naturally any time soon. She knew he'd have fun, and she kept telling him this so he wouldn't give himself a fucking ulcer from all this anxiety.

Wolfric wasn't out to hate anyone; he didn't have it in him, too much of a gentle giant to really do more than scowl. Of course, it was wrong to call him the giant when his father Baldr was standing at his side, towering over him by just a few inches. The build, the height, it ran in the family and half of him wished that Yosif was here but the other half was happy to be hanging out with Baldr. "So are you.. getting a tattoo?" he asked nervously, because he didn't need this to become some weird stoic contest, okay? He had to impress Baldr, but he couldn't do so if the man was sitting next to him totally unflinching getting a tattoo himself, could he? Speaking of.. he poked his head into the art gallery, looking around at.. well, he wasn't sure what he was looking around at. There was probably a set up right? "This the uh.. tattoo thingy?" he asked, looking between the people in the room.

Baldyr had considered not coming at first, but a look from Yosif and a reminder that he needed to get out into their new community pushed him out the door. Plus, he didn't want Wolfric going by himself. Baldr was still unsure of the area, and his paranoia was raging as of late. The tall viking of a man dressed in dark jeans and a gray t-shirt moved in stride with the younger man, givng him a slight grin. "Not today, but I'll be here for more support should you need it," he teased softly, holding out his right hand to show one of his smaller pieces, a Nordic boar design on the back of it. "Maybe when things have...settled down, but not now," he shrugged, opening the door wider to the venue as Wolfric stuck his head in. "Looks like the place." At least the chairs looked like tattoo chairs.

Isolabella had heard about the tattoo contest, and of course priding herself on owning the local body mod shop, decided to show up and get some advertising out for her little shop, more clients and all that. Swaggering on into the art gallery she smiled as she looked around, carrying with her, her own little professional looking case, with her gun, needles, heads, and all the inks she could ever need to show off that day. A slow look around was given as she wandered on up towards Damian, eyes lighting up with familiarity. "Hey sugar pie! How you doing? Been ages since I last saw you." Her honey warm voice flowing out as she would approach. "I'm entering your contest, I hope you don't mind?" A sly wink given to him. Bella had confidence, in herself, in her skill but she knew it surely would most likely be a fight to the death with the other artists, she didn't doubt they were skilled as well, if they were entering that contest.

Vinsent had little business being at a tattoo expo, after all he was probably the last person in the world who needed to make permanent decisions about his own person. He'd been doing a pretty shit job of that his whole life after all and tattoos weren't exactly something you could wash off the next morning when you wake up with regret. Still, he had little else to do and nothing could go worse than the last event he showed up to right? So far he'd manage to give someone their worst fears, barrell over a poor innocent man as a wolf and fuck up his reunion with his recently reunited son. What could possibly go wrong here? Only one way to find out! He came up behind Wolfric and Baldr, eyes settling on the former for a moment before recognition dawned on him. "Oh, I remember you. How's your little baby chick?" which...he wasn't supposed to know about. Because he had been a wolf ...not a human. Whoops?

Before Damian knew it, the entire shop was flooding with people, making his fuckin' head spin as he tried to keep up with all of them. God, he was awful at organizing shit. Why was he here? He reached up with his hand and began to count all of the arrivals with his index finger, near-inaudibly whispering the numbers to himself as he kept track, before he found himself in the company of a familiar Southern voice and a friendly face he hadn't seen in awhile. Damian grinned up at her, fidgeting with the sleeve of his denim jacket. "Hey!" He chirped. "'Course it's okay, that's what it's here for." The building had been rendered almost unrecognizable for the event; all of the art that was previously being showed in the main room had been tucked away to the safety of a storage room as the event's sponsors brought in tattoo chairs, tables, and sanitizing equipment. The room was divided into mini tattoo-stations: about..six or seven, maybe? Damian stayed put as he watched everyone settle in, wondering if he should go ahead and start or wait for more arrivals. He decided to go with the latter; maybe he should give them five more minutes? Ten? Five seemed good. Fuck, he was bad at this. He didn't even know who was an artist and who was a canvas. Guess he'd figure out? He cleared his throat, and then gave a pathetic attempt to raise his voice, a baby lion's roar-- "Hey," He practically squeaked, before furrowing his brow and continuing. "Hey!" He repeated, the slightest bit louder. "Uhh..who all's planning on being an artist?" Damian wouldn't have been surprised if no one heard that.

inkedd. Unlike Damian, Ana hopped up from her seat the second other people began to walk in and immediately made it her life's mission to get to know all of them. She roamed around the room, fluttering around like the social butterfly she was, and found herself gliding towards a group of two..very fuckin' large men who really did make her feel like the size of a butterfly in comparison to their fuckin' mountains. She looked up to meet their eyes, and then kept looking up; when she found their faces in the clouds, she grinned-- if the tiny lady was at all intimidated (she wasn't), she certainly didn't show it. "Hello!" She greeted with a radiant, amicable grin that warmed her eyes, "You guys planning on being canvases?"

Harper Greenbush would slink into the tattoo parlor, glancing around at everyone else in the place. She came in after the introduction, apparently, and as Ana (who was only an inch or so shorter than she was, really) rounds on her, she says, "Uh, yeah. Always wanted one, I figured this would be a good time to take the plunge, you know? 'Specially in a contest. That's a cool story." Offering a slight grin, coming up on one side of her mouth more than the other.

Wolfric stared at Vinsent when the man suggested.. he knew about the chick. Eyes squinted at him, but he didn't remember his face from being there. "Uh.. he's doing good," he said, slow and calculating, like he was trying to figure it out. He kind of knew about supernaturals, but he wasn't really sure which were real and which were made up, so he didn't think he was the dog. His eyes turned to Baldr's tattoo, and affection surged through him. Duh, of course he had the boar. "It fits you," he said, though Baldr wouldn't get the meaning behind it. Maybe one day? With the confirmation that yes, yep, this was where he wanted to be, Wolf felt tension ease out of his shoulders. "I'm a canvas," he confirmed for Isolabella. "But he's not," he said, jerking a thumb at Baldr. "He just thinks I'm gonna cry, but he's gonna be sorely let down."

Baldyr wasn't the most friendly of faces. Though he wasn't a jerk or an outright asshole to people, typically a really friendly person, he had a resting face that could scare the general masses into thinking he was moments away from snapping your neck. Given his imposing size, it wouldn't be much of a stretch of him to do so either. Wolfric had once jokingly referred to it as his resting murder face. Baldr tensed at the approach of someone behind himself and Wolfric, giving Vinsent a once over, assessing the threat level. He could hear Yosif's voice in his head already, scolding him for being so on guard at a simple tattoo festival. He was reminded of the little chicken now scurrying around Wolf's apartment, attention snagged as Ana popped up in front of them. He looked down at her. What a small woman. "What he said," he confirmed, nudging the younger man with an elbow. "I dont' think you'll cry, but you won't sit still. Then you'll have a smudged tattoo," he teased.

Isolabella smiled sweetly to Damian before she heard Wolfric talking to her, turning her head she would gaze at him and then Baldyr and give a simple nod. "Well, I'm an artist... I own Bella's Body Mod Shop." She explained with a smile. "Eh, it depends really where you're getting it done, and how long it can take, there's a lot of back-and-forth, and some people just can't handle that kind of pain." Shrugging her shoulders as she would speak with the two pleasantly. Gently, she'd pull the top of her shirt down just enough to reveal the wreathed robin there. "See, whenever I show people this one, they think it must of hurt a ton, but this one up here?" She'd point to the little heart by her right eye corner. "We had to stop five times cause I couldn't stop crying, was an absolute bitch." She chuckled out, chatting so smoothly and casually. "Well, I hope your artist paints a pretty mural on you, if you don't end up getting me that is."

Vinsent was neither an artist nor a canvas, just an incredibly bored werewolf whose pack was off doing...well he should probably know but doesn't. He was sort of hoping he would've bumped into Domitus here, it seemed like his sort of thing after all, but maybe it was for the best he hadn't. Wolfric's eye squinting and cautious response having the man realize his error. "Good, good...I had a friend there is all. Told me all about it." yeah that was smooth right? Totally not suspicious! Thankfully he was saved from further foot-in-mouth blunders by the talk of tattoos. He wasn't sure he would see the man cry, but a full back piece? That was probably going to hurt after awhile right? He followed the two men inside, only offering a friendly and rather disarming grin to Baldr as he gave him a once over. Honestly, there was nothing threatening here unless you counted his own stupidity. With all the talk of tattoo's going around he simply found a nice place to lean and folded arms loosely. There wasn't much else to do except wait for the work to start right?

Wolfric quirked a brow at Vinsent because.. yeah.. no dude that didn't.. work. "Uh huh.. He uh.. told you exactly what I looked like and that I had.. a chicken.." His smile said that, despite how WEIRD Vins was, he was only teasing him. Maybe they could talk more about this 'friend' another time. Bella and Baldr were both listened to, and he gave Baldr a small shove- extremely small, because despite his build and his strength he had nothing on his father. "Yeah see? I'm gonna be fine!" He totally.. had this. "I'm not gonna move, I don't wanna look dumb. Besides, this is a competition right? I don't wanna fuck up whoever's chances of winning." Eyes turned to the host with the most, curious. "When do we get to sit down in chairs?"

doeeyes just wished he could turn off his weird fucking..sixth sense just for a few hours, that's all he wanted, but he couldn't help but feel some sort of tension laying low and heavy in the air like the ozone before a storm; its undeniable companion was that gut-twisting instinct of something being off -- not dangerous, just..strange. That strangeness came rolling towards him from all different angles, but the source (or, well, sources) was completely unknown. Damian tried to shove it to the back of his mind as he stood up slowly, wincing from the sharp stab of pain that gripped his left hip and seared through the rest of his nerves to his ankle. A small hiss crawled up his throat and he bit down on his bottom lip damn-near hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to hold himself back from yelling "FUCK" at the top of his lungs; he recovered quickly -- the pain was expected, at this point -- and then clapped his hands together in hopes that it would grab everyone's attention. "Well, uh, hi, everyone," He greeted, not any louder than he was earlier. He was pretty sure it was physically impossible to raise his voice past this slighty-above-normal-talking volume, so he just admitted defeat and accepted the fact he was forever cursed to talk in this fucking fairy voice. "I'm Damian, I'm hosting, and I think we're ready to start, so, uh..could all of the artists here raise your hands?" When Damian heard one of the guests talking to him, his gaze met the source of the voice and he gave him a small smile. "Uh..just a minute, I'm gonna see who all's doing what." He hoped he was making it sound like he knew what he was doing to cover up the fact he absolutely fucking didn't.

Baldyr chuckled, giving Wolf a firm but reassuring pat on the back. "Very true. You'll do fine, kid. Though an entire backpiece may be intense for your first bit of ink." He leaned in slightly to whisper in the boy's ear to speak to only him. "I won't think any less of you for backing out, if you change your mind and want to start smaller," he said, leaning away from him after the reassurance. He didn't know why he felt so responsible for Wolfric's safety and comfort, but Baldr had a feeling that Wolfric wouldn't mind hearing those words and not take them as him calling the boy a chicken. With that, he stepped off to the side a little to be out of the way of any artists or canvases setting up, knowing he took up a bit of space.

inkedd just chuckled at the comment about crying; these guys looked like the type of fuckers who eat nails for breakfast and do the type of extreme sports that make your fucking face just start bleeding from straining your muscles, not crying from tattoos. "Don't worry, no one's crying," She played along, "I'm not a dick and I didn't choose some painful ass spot for this, don't worry." She didn't want to spoil the surprise, but she was planning on either a thigh or forearm tattoo for her design-- whatever her canvas wanted. She had just migrated over to another lady and asked her if she planned on being tattooed before she heard Damian's little twink voice barely managing to hover above the light chatter of the room. She could hear him just fine, but she was used to his soft boy shit; just in case nobody heard, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out, "Raise your hand if you're a tattoo artist!" After that, she raised her hand high and proud, like a little kid who knew the answer in class.

Vinsent ran a hand through shorted locks, rubbing the back of his head and grinning a bit sheepishly. "He sure did...mostly the chicken part. I'll tell you about him sometime." or rather, he'd tell Wolfric about himself and see if the man starts to believe in the supernatural more. It isn't like Caribou Coast was entirely unaware of the wolf population hanging out in the woods after all. "Good luck with your tattoo there...you have any idea what it's going to be?" or was this one of those, cross your fingers and pray the artist does a good job? He wasn't adventerous enough to find out, but he'd watch the action from a distance...a very safe, no way is a needle going to put ink in me distance. Which set him right next to Baldr; the man towering over his 6'1 frame by a good 5 inches. Nothing like a giant Nordic man to make you feel small right? "Your friend is brave there...going for a full back piece. You're just here for moral support than?" he might as well attempt to make conversation with the only other person who didn't seem to be and artist or canvas.

Isolabella heard Damians voice calling through the crowd, somehow... But she'd raise her own hand for him to see. Artist here, artist there... This was looking to be it'd be a fun thing to do... She couldn't wait to talk to her canvas, see what kind of style they'd like, or if they wanted anything special incorporated into it, she didn't mind working to order, but it was a fun thing to also do a free style, show where she was really best at. Once Damian got the count of artists done, she meandered on over to a chair to call her own, already unpacking her tattoo gun. She'd brought everything that wasn't nailed down it seemed.

Missy Kissinger had heard about the tattoo extravaganza, and was contemplating getting some work done if it wasn't too full, or just coming to support community. She wanted to show her face around the community more and this was a good event to do just that. She pushed the door open and kind of peeked in before sashaying her way in, eyes widening at all the art, flash, smell of green soap, and that sexy buzzing noise. She was, of course, bright as heck, but she tried to keep a low profile. For now she just kind of floated around to look, not wanting to get in the way or crowd anyone.

doeeyes. So..two artists? Damian nodded to himself as he watched Isolabella head over to her own station. "Uh, so, I know a lot of you are probably just here to watch, so if you're a canvas could you also raise your hand? And then I'll figure this out."

Wolfric: "I'm not gonna wuss out!" Wolfric insisted to Baldr, and maybe.. he sounded a little bit like a child, but the dude was only eighteen, despite his mass. He nodded to Vins, and waited for the actual tattooing part to begin. When Damian asked about who was here to be a victim, he raised his hand. "Serious question though.. is this really full back? I've got a lot of back.. wouldn't that take hours?" Because no one thought of this, did they? Nope, not a single one of us considered how long a full back tattoo would take, whoopsie doodles.

doeeyes. "I mean.." Damian's voice trailed off as his lips curved into a slight frown; truth be told, he didn't..really know? It was probably fuckin' illegal, or some shit, to force someone to get a tattoo they didn't want. He didn't wanna end up in that mess. He was just here to host, dammit. "Guess it just depends on what the artist wants," He answered, hoping his uncertainty didn't leak through. "If you're worried I'd..talk to your artist?"

inkedd made her way over to her own station; she wasn't going to lie, she was competitive as fuck, so seeing the other artist's confidence as she walked over to her station made Ana's heart begin to pump faster from that competitive energy. She wasn't the type of person to hate someone forever if she lost, but friendly competition? Sign her the fuck up. She rocked back and forth on her heels as she waited for Damian to pair up the canvases with the artists.

Baldyr held up his hands as a sign of peace to Wolfric, giving him one more knowing grin before moving to lean against the nearby wall, soon finding himself joined by the man from before. They hadn't exchanged names, but Baldr wasn't really interested in getting to know anyone here. He was already feeling on edge being out in public, surrounded by unknowns. Baldr's expression dropped back to that resting murder face as Vinsent spoke next to him. "He would be just as brave if he didn't get one either, but the first ink is never the last." He finally looked over at the other man, still assessing him. "Why are you here if you're not an artist or a canvas?" Ever the paranoid. Good job making friends, Baldr. He could hear Yosif now.

Harper Greenbush would, on cue, raise her hand when the canvases were asked to, glancing over at all the friends talking again. She didn't have any of her own friends here, they tended to hang out into the woods, and this was a spur-of-the-moment thing. She'd glance over to Baldyr, suggesting, "Maybe he's here to watch? I've watched a pal get a tattoo before, it's kinda neat if you're willing to sit around for a while."

Vinsent couldn't fault Baldr for being suspicious and the resting murder face? It might've actually worked if Vinsent wasn't used to seeing that on a regular basis. He wasn't here to make enemies though and he actually sort of liked Wolfric so best not to piss off whoever he was with right? "Mm, I was hoping I'd bump into someone but they didn't make an appearance." he wouldn't elaborate on who and what though, letting it linger. Harper's voice had him grinning in her direction, waving in a way to say 'thanks!' before nodding. "I figured it wouldn't hurt to see artists at work though right? I was a bit bored." and this was better than hanging out at the bar and getting trashed. That might be his son's favorite past time but this wolf had moved past that...mostly. As the artists and canvases got settled in he shifted a bit away from Baldr to try to put himself slightly closer to Wolfric and whoever was going to be inking him up. The question of inking the full back had the werewolf pondering himself. "You make a good point, I am sure your artist is flexible though right?" because lets face it, an entire back piece? Usually took 3 or more 6 hour+ sessions. Not that he was an expert but he had friends. Or something.

doeeyes. This ended up being a lot more simple than Damian predicted, thank God. "Okay, so, uh..you--" He pointed at Harper, "go to her," and then he pointed at Isolabella. "And then you--" He then pointed at Wolfric, "can go to Ana over there." Ana stood up on her toes, raised her arm up high, and waved with a grin.

Baldyr only gave Harper a glance before staring back at Vinsent. Though the other's words excused his appearance at the event, Baldr still didn't feel totally settled. Though that was nothing new. He was surrounded by strangers, some of whom seemed friendly and well meaning, but trust was buried deep and away inside Baldr for public spaces and the people in them. He was also protective of Wolfric, having helped the kid and Yosif travel across country to get to this new homestead in Caribou Coast. Baldr let out a soft sigh, reaching up to rub his temple slowly, trying to remind himself to just relax. He was here to watch too, and to support Wolfric. That's all he needed to do. When the kid was given an artist, he moved closer. Not enough to crowd Ana or her workstation, but in Wolfric's sightline, giving the kid a thumb's up.

Isolabella looked up when Damian was assigning the canvases and artists together. She would wave her hand to harper. "Come on over honey bee!" She called warmly to the girl with a big sugar sweet smile. Once Harper settled down on the chair she would begin speaking to her. "There anything specific you want?" She would ask as she'd move in closer towards her tools to start getting things prepped and ready... She was pretty good with free-handing, at least she considered herself good. She took up a marker from her kit, to sketch it out once Harper gave her input. "Okay, take your shirt off and lay on your front, anywhere specific you'd want it put?" She'd then wait for Damian to signal when to start.

Missy Kissinger found herself gravitating toward Vinsent and Baldyr, They didn't seem busy in the chaos, and could maybe be some conversation. She hmmed as she listened. "Its honestly impressive." She murmered to the two. "My back piece took me like..... a month to finish. But I'm a big baby. I did the outline first, and the shading and color took like multiple sessions because my skin just hates it." She chuckled with pink brows lifted. "So you guys aren't getting any work done?" She tried to keep her back to Harper, to not have her feel oogled for the possible uncomfortability with taking your top off in a crowded studio.

Wolfric was... not at all fucking nervous, nope. Tattoos were awesome. And his dad had one! And that meant he had to get one. It was too bad he couldn't ask for anything in particular, but considering Baldr still didn't realize he was his father getting a boar might be a step too far. He fiddled with the wooden necklace he was wearing, the little pig relic enough to comfort him if Baldr's own presence wasn't. "Okay.. lets do this," he said to Ana, grinning up at her and giving her a thumbs up that mirrored Baldr's. "Gimme some sick ink." Tattoos were.. forever. And maybe this was impulsive and stupid, but Wolfric could definitely be both of those things. He was still a kid in a lot of ways.

Harper Greenbush would wander on over, and would offer out her hand for a shake, giving the other woman a firm grip. "Nice to meet'cha. I'm Harp." Moving to take off her cap and her jacket, then her shirt, leaving her only in her underthings, not seeming very modest about the whole thing, showing off her strong arms and muscular physique. Harper was clearly a woman who spent a lot of time working on her body. "Nah, nothing specific." She'd say as she settled onto the seat, her muscular back on display. "If you could do something... strong, though, I'd like that. I'm not exactly the girly type, but you may have figured that out.. Feel free to go as big and as creative as you want. I've heard this smarts, but I don't mind some pain." She didn't seem particularly nervous, and would glance over her shoulder to give Isolabella a look with those dark brown eyes. "That sound good?"

inkedd had just finished tattooing Wolfric's shoulder piece: an intricate caribou skull, antlers sprawling upwards towards the sky, with a light circle perfectly going around the skull and the antlers. Inside the circle was a light triangle, and inside that triangle was another intricate all-seeing-eye, the triangle pointing up towards the sky and landing in the center of another circle. She was waiting eagerly for the results; even if she lost, she was fuckin' proud of this tattoo. She honestly considered it one of her bests.

Isolabella wiped at her sweaty brow as she put the finishing touches on the tattoo... Harper had been a bit of a challenge to place down, but finally she figured something out for the woman. Something strong huh? Well, lions were pretty damn strong and fierce, so free-handing, and then inking it in, it took careful lines and shading from there. And now she was actually finished. She would nod her head and look around. "There a standing mirror so they can see themselves? Other wise..." She'd take out two hand-mirrors, moving one up behind Harper, after handing her the other so she could see her new tatt.

doeeyes. All of the tattoos were finished up, and Damian had just finished wandering around the room to look at both Isolebella's and Ana's pieces. They were both so gorgeous; he was happy he wasn't a judge, because if he was, he'd have no clue who to vote for. When Damian drew the name of the winner, he felt like he needed a drum roll for the effect, or something. Once he unfolded the paper, the name stared back, bold and undeniable-- "Isolabella wins!" He chirped with a grin.

Harper Greenbush would take the hand mirror, and grin. "I like it." The lion fit her personality, probably more than anyone here actually knew. She'd shift, watching it move. That was on her skin now, it was kind of trippy. "I could probably come see you again, yeah? Didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would. It was kinda fun." Then her tattoo artists wins, and she smirks, saying, "See, I knew they paired me with a winner. Congrats!"

Isolabella grinned to Harper as she spoke about coming to see her again. "I do all kinds of tattoos, and piercings even if you're thinking of bedazzling your skin even more." As they were judged she would begin packing her stuff up before pausing as she heard she had won the contest. "Well! I'm quite pleased for that, you were a worthy opponent." She called to Ana, before finishing up cleaning up her area. "I need to get home before Teddy throws a fit... Was nice seeing you guys." Simple wave, and then she was off.