Blood Ink

(I posted this in deviantart but what the hell I'll post it here as well ^-^)

Summary:

I felt him binding himself to me with each hum of the needles dancing across my skin. The pain was overshadowed by pleasure. Sweet, sweet pleasure.

He was I. I was he.
His blood. My blood.
We were one.

Outline:

Destiny is inescapable.

It was a statement I didn't believe in for many years. But it was that one day, that one encounter, which made me change what I believed in. No matter how much you try to resist, to escape, the threads of destiny will always manage to snare you.

Once, I believed that I could be whoever I chose to be. I believed that I could walk down a path I have chosen. It was a belief I upheld for nineteen years, and for nineteen long years, I tried to be something I wanted to be, not something I knew I was meant to be.

And still it was futile.

I was a fool to think I could evade fate. Little did I know that it was just waiting for the right opportunity to reveal what I was meant to be. And once it had me in its jaws, there was no escape.

The fates are cruel…especially to those like me.

A blessing. A curse.

They don't know the kind of destiny we have. The symbols are all different, but our fates are one and the same.

Two overlapping stars caged within a ring. Wings spread in flight.

This was my fate, my destiny.

First Stroke:

I turned the page, my fingers brushing across the patterns and designs drawn so lovingly, so carefully. Roses and vines, tigers and wolves, dragons and serpents…they were endless. They were so life-like, so beautiful, and I was proud of them.

Well, proud of the person who drew them.

"WHERE'S MY IMAGE BOOK?!" a male voice roared, making me jump in surprise. I snapped the book shut and hugged it to my chest.
"Keep your voice down dear," a female voice replied. "Your image book is probably in someone's evil clutches."

I looked down at my evil clutches…er, hands, and chuckled. Trust her to always know where the book was. I mean, come on! It was only –

" – THE THIRD TIME THIS WEEK!" the first voice roared. "She of all people should know that my image book is EXTREMELY important!"
"She probably knows that," the second said soothingly. "That's why she keeps taking it."

I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my laughs. But it was so funny I threw my head back…and collided with the wall behind me.

"OW!

I rubbed the back of my head. Then I suddenly realized that I had yelped out loud.

His voice was soft but deadly. "Leja Sigyn Erzulie Valkari. Come out wherever you're hiding. NOW."

Holy ink, he said my full name. That meant that he was in a worse mood than I thought he was in. I stood up and stepped out from behind the swinging steel shelf.

"Yes, Father?" I asked a little nervously.
Taran Valkari held out his hand, his face stern. "My image book, please."
"Just give it to him, sweetie," Auryon Valkari, my mother, said.

Reluctantly, I handed it over. As I did, my eyes travelled to his arm. It was covered with tattoos of various designs – mostly of dragons. They were all wonderfully inked into his skin – life-like, seeming as if they were moving in the light.

My mother's arm was also covered with tattoos, but the designs were more feminine – twisting knots and vines. And like my father, her art was also very life-like.

"How many times have I told you not to steal my image book?" Taran asked.
"I didn't steal it," I protested. "I borrowed it!"
"You took it without permission," Auryon said. "You know how important that book is to him."
"I was just looking at the designs," I muttered. "I thought there'd be a new one I could consider getting."
"Leja, you know you can only get your first tattoo when you turn twenty," Taran said his features softening.
"You can decide which one you want on that day," Auryon added.
"But it's still a year away!" I cried. "Can't I decide now, get it later?"
"No," they both said.
Taran turned and began to walk upstairs. "I mean it Leja. If you take my image book again, you will get your first tattoo when you're twenty-five."
"But…" I began. Seeing the look on his face, I sighed and nodded. "Fine. I'll keep my "evil clutches" off it, Father."

He gave me a smile and disappeared upstairs. Auryon followed, leaving me alone in our family shop. I sat down on the reclining chair and sighed again. My parents knew exactly what they were talking about. They were Eyraren – Tattoo Artists.

Out of everything in Agalya, tattoos were the most important. That's because each design embodied you with a special skill – strength, intelligence, speed, etc. At the age of twenty, an Agalyan chose one design and stuck with it forever.

And that's the catch. A normal person can only take one tattoo, one special skill, into his body. If he tries to take another, the new skill will wrestle with the old, poisoning the receiver's blood, killing him in minutes.

Very, very few can hold numerous tattoos in their bodies. These are those who are brave enough to train in the art of tattooing, getting tested by having a new tattoo inked into their skin each year they spend studying. These were the Eyraren.

In the vast land of Agalya, there were only fifteen Eyraren, counting my parents. They were the only ones in our city. I was born into a life of privilege, since Eyraren were people of high position. However, I was not truly happy because I was not an Eyraron and I never will be. Why? My parents never enrolled me at the Academy.

Fancy that, the daughter of not one but TWO Eyraren never ever becoming like her parents. I could laugh at the painful irony of it.

Well, at least I didn't have to worry about dying in agony. Unlike someone.

I heard the door chimes ring as the door swung open. I looked up, seeing a tall boy who I knew was two years older than I was, with shoulder-length, brown and gold-streaked hair, and crystal blue eyes. On the side of his neck was a tattoo of a black ring with two lightning bolts coming out of the top and bottom of it.

Varos Aksyl Sjofin.

I grinned. "We're closed." I walked towards him.
"Aww…are they making you stand guard?" Varos teased. "And here I thought you were free."
"Jerk." I made to punch his arm, but he was gone before my fist could make contact.
"Too slow, Leja," he whispered behind me. "You used to get me all the time."
"That was before you turned twenty," I said. "Cheater."
He laughed and hugged me from behind. "Poor Leja Valkari. Still too young to get her first tattoo."

I elbowed him in the ribs. He immediately let go.

"Ow, what was that for?!" Varos grumbled rubbing the sore spot.
"For being a show-off and a jerk." I smiled innocently. "See? Your speed isn't that amazing."
"My body's still adjusting," he protested. "I only got it last year!"
I snorted. "Excuses, excuses."

Before I knew it, I was flat on the reclining chair, Varos leaning over me, his eyes flashing. I felt his breath on my face, his own just inches away.

"I'm still older and faster than you," he said softly. "Let's not forget who's the adult here."
"Funny, you don't act like one," I said. "An adult doesn't make use of his skill like some toy."
"You know what Leja? You can be a real pain sometimes."
"I know." My grin grew wider. "But you love me anyways."
"Since when did you let all that air into your head?" he pulled away, letting me sit up.

I didn't answer. Instead, I brushed my fingers over his tattoo, taking in the sharp lines, the work of art. As I did, I felt a tingling sensation on my navel. It was unusual, but it was stronger this time. I ignored it.

"Your mom did a good job on it," Varos said putting his hand over mine, stopping my hand's trek across his tattoo. "It hurt like hell, but it was worth it."
"Why'd you choose it?" I asked. "Why choose Speed?"
He shrugged. "Hard to explain. The best way to put it is that it called to me."
"Called? Like, what, it went like "Varos! Here boy! Pick me!!!"?"
"Very funny, Leja." He chuckled. "You'll understand when you get your first."
"I get one. You get more."

Varos nodded. He was studying at the Academy and was almost ready for his second ink. Taran always said that he was the son he wished he had. Hearing that used to tear me apart inside, but I eventually accepted it. Most Eyraren were men, since their bodies were stronger, more built to accept more skills than women. It was a pain, but it didn't make it less than the truth.

"At least you aren't risking your life," Varos said softly. Be thankful you stay safe."
"I don't want to be safe, I want to be an Eyraron!" I burst out. "It's not fair you get to be one someday!"
He laughed. "We're not even sure I'll be a real Eyraron someday. Who knows, I may drop out." He looked at me. "Concerned for me, Leja?"

I made to punch his arm again but he snatched my fist midair. I tugged, but he didn't let go.

"Why is it that when I question your feelings for me you try to punch me in the arm?" he asked.
I felt myself blush. "I…I think it's getting late. You should go home, Varos."
"Leja, I live next door. Stop avoiding the question." He gave me an amused looked then sighed. "Never mind, I already know."
"You don't know anything," I mumbled.
"Oh? Really?" he challenged.

I felt more flags of color sweep up over me. Varos laughed out loud and pulled me against him. My eyes widened as his lips touched mine.

"Don't be embarrassed," he said. "Because I feel the same way."

Holy ink, it's only the first chapter and I'm already getting kissed! This can't right!



My eyes flew open and I found myself lying in bed, Taran's image book tucked under my arm. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I touched my lips, remembering.

"Well, this sucks," I murmured.

And right on cue…

"WHERE'S MY IMAGE BOOK?!!!"

(Patience guys, I'll get back to it when I get home xDD)

Second Stroke:

As I expected, Taran gave me a good scolding, but surprisingly, not as bad as the one in my dream. He didn't even say my full name, which I knew was a mouthful. The day went by as usual – people coming in to get their first tattoo, Auryon helping my father and then going out shopping, and, of course, Taran leaving me to clean the shop up. Throughout the day, I didn't dwell much on my dream. I've had several ones just like it ever since I started having a crush on Varos.

As Taran cleaned his needles after a day's work, I examined the different vials of ink sitting on the shelves. From what I learned from my parents, certain colors have to be mixed just right to get the right skill. For instance, if you mixed too much blue with yellow and you're after a Speed skill, you may very well end up as slow as a turtle for the rest of your life. You can get the tattoo removed, but it costs more than your lifetime savings – the minimum price is one-hundred trillion quars (the currency of Agalya).

"They're another Eyraren meeting tonight," Auryon said as the sun was setting. "Sons and daughters are welcome."
"No thanks, Mother," I said. "I'm fine with staying home."
"Are you sure?" Taran asked. "We'll be off in a few minutes."
"I'm good right here," I insisted. "Besides, what good am I there? I'm not an Eyraron and I'm not studying to be one."
"You can still pick up a thing or two," Auryon said. "You'll never know when such information will be useful, even if you're not an Eyraron."
"Again, no thank you." I pushed them towards the door. "Now, run along or you'll be late. It takes thirty minutes to reach the center of the city and you still need to get a ride. Besides, those meetings last the whole night, right?"
"Behave," Taran said sternly. "We don't want to come back and find everything in ruins."
I rolled my eyes. "Goodbye Father and Mother."

I kissed them both on the cheek, pushed them out the door, and shut it in their faces. I half-expected them to come back in and insist that I go, but they didn't. Even if they did manage to drag me to the meeting, I would sneak away the minute their backs were turned.

After tidying up the shop, I locked the door and went upstairs for a quick shower and some fresh clothes. I changed out of my knee-length, light blue dress and put on a pair of loose pants and a shirt. Then, I opened my window.

If my parents found out that I spent most of my evenings sitting on the roof, they would either confine me to my room with bars on my window for the remainder of my life or they would kill me. But I couldn't help it; it was a nice quiet place to get lost in my thoughts.

"Leja!"


Of course, it wasn't always that way. I looked up, seeing Varos grinning at me from the roof of his house a few feet away. His hair was ruffled, his shirt partially opened to reveal a bit of his chest.

"What?!" I called back.

He jumped over to my roof and sat beside me. I smiled at him, trying to keep my eyes on his face and not to stray to his chest. I knew that I would turn as red as a tomato if I so much as glanced down.

Why, why, WHY was I feeling this?! He was my best friend, my partner-in-crime, the only one who knew me inside-out. It should've been enough for me. My mind screamed at me to tell him, but I just couldn't jeopardize our friendship with my feelings.

"Alone again?" he asked.
"As usual," I replied. I raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be somewhere else?"
"To the meeting? Hell no." He lay down and tucked his hands behind his head. "Too boring. They just trade designs and tattooing tips and stuff. Then they teach the little kids some basics if they ever want to be Eyraren in the future."
"You don't like teaching the kids?"
He shrugged. "I'm not the teaching kind."

Before I could say something, shadows passed over us, making me look up. I gasped. A group of winged men soared above us in the darkening, orange sky, heading towards a walled city in the horizon.

My eyes went to the one leading them – a young man who looked to be in his early twenties, with blood-red hair that seemed to shine in the setting sun. Spread out wide on either side of him was a pair of dark-gold wings.

"Sylfs," I whispered.

The Sylfs were a race of winged people...and were the leaders of Agalya. Agalya was a very vast land and every city had a Sylf mayor. Below the Sylfs were the Eyraren but they were by far our superiors in every way.

Sylfs had command over every element and mysterious forces – masters of magic both destructive and healing. The tattoos Agalyans bore on their skin were actually made from a very watered-down mixture of their blood (so they remain our masters, some say). Everyone agreed they were a sight to behold…but also very dangerous if angered. No one dared to cross a Sylf.

Varos scowled as they passed. "They're blocking my view of the sky," he murmured.
"Shhh!" I hissed. "Do you want them to hear you?!"
"I'll be gone before they can reach the roof."

I looked at the Sylfs again, or, to be more specific, at the one with gold wings. I didn't know why but I felt…drawn…to him in some way. To my utter surprise, he glanced back…and stared right at me!

And then I felt it – the tingling sensation in my navel.

"Who is that guy…?" I found myself asking aloud.
Varos cast a passive glance at the gold-winged Sylf. "Leja…that's the Veryo."

My jaw dropped. I was…I was staring at the Prince of Agalya himself! I've only seen him on newspapers and TV; I didn't recognize him in the darkening sky. Let me tell you, seeing him flying up close took my breath away.

"He's…perfect," I breathed.
"Bet he knows that," Varos said. "He has a million girls and Sylfa fawning over him."
"Oh, like you don't," I teased.
He looked at me innocently. "It's my natural charm, dear Leja. I can't help that I'm gorgeous."

I swatted him playfully, stifling my laughs. Varos was right though, Veryo Skye (that was his name) was known to have a horde of rabid fan girls stalking him 24/7. I shook my head. Veryo Skye was god-like in every way, but he carried himself in a haughty manner. Just like every other Sylf.

"Have you ever met him?" I asked.
Varos shook his head. "Nope, but I think your parents have. All the Eyraren get to meet the Royal Family at some point in their lives." He raised an eyebrow. "Why? Hoping he's single, Leja?"
"Just curious, that's all," I said offhandedly. "You don't see a sight like that often, you know."
"It's damn annoying. They're just showing off."
"Well, they do have something to show off, don't they?"
"I didn't know you worshipped them, Leja Valkari." He scowled. "They're monsters…all of them."
I brushed some of his bangs out of his eyes. "You hate them because of Cira?"
His features hardened. "She was my sister, Leja."
"It was five years ago."
"Why are you on their side?!" he demanded.
"I'm not!" I retorted. "I was just saying!"
"Wounds like that don't heal fast. But you wouldn't know what it feels like."
"I don't have to know what it feels like to understand," I said softly.
"She was too young," Varos said bitterly. "Too young."

I embraced him, stroking his hair. True, Cira had only been twelve, but there wasn't anything anyone could've done. She had been marked.
Varos held on to me, his head resting on my lap. Usually it was the other way around but today…today Varos needed me.

"What would I do without you?" he whispered.
I chuckled. "Find another girl to be your best friend?"
"Haha, very funny." He sat up, am smile finally forming on his lips. "You're the only girl that deserves the best friend spot."
"Great, do I get an award?" I asked excitedly.
"Yeah." He grabbed my wrists with one hand. "This."

He pinned me beneath him and began to tickle me mercilessly. I tried to fight him off, to hold my laughter in, but even after years of practice, my efforts were futile. I began to laugh, squirming, trying to get away.

"I surrender!" I gasped. "All right, all right! I surrender!!!"
"You are so weak, Leja." He smirked and stopped.
I pushed at him. "Get off me and my roof. We're gonna attract unwanted attention."

He laughed but didn't move. Over the years people have asked us if we were a couple but we've always denied it. It was in the last two years that I realized I so badly wanted to say yes.

"Let them talk," he said. "It's not true anyways."
"Your fans will burn me at the stake though," I pointed out.
"Not if you don't leave the house."
"Ah, that's the thing I'm good at," I sighed. "I hate it. I barely get to get out of the house and when I do either Mother or Father is with me. It's annoying."
"You never really did tell me why is that."

Involuntarily, my fingers brushed over my stomach, lingering at the spot over my navel. I've never told anyone the real reason why I rarely went outside; I never even hinted it at Varos.

I choose my words carefully.

"I guess…they're just really overprotective."

Third Stroke:

"Cremation?" I asked two days later. "Who's getting cremated?"
Auryon looked solemn. "The Veryo's Yfke died nearly three weeks ago. They're holding the cremation tonight at the center of the city."

My blood ran cold. The Veryo's Yfke was dead…? Then, then that meant…

"He fully absorbed her soul three weeks ago," I said softly.
"Yes," Taran said solemnly. "She was from our city. They say he's already seeking his next."

A Sylf was all-powerful, yes, but the power comes with a price. A Sylf's power was so great, it ate away at his soul. So, in order for a Sylf to live longer, he must take another soul into his body. To do that, he needed an Yfke – a BloodSoul.

No one knows how Yfke are chosen…they seem to be determined before they were born. An Yfke, since birth, bears a faint outline of his/her Sylf's tattoo. This is to identify his/her soul is destined to be a Sylf's. In time, the Sylf will absorb his/her Yfke's soul.

It's unknown how many Yfke exist or how many are meant for each Sylf to have. But you can almost always depend on the fact that when a Sylf's Yfke dies, another is ready to take his/her place. Stranger still, the gender of an Yfke and his/her Sylf are always opposite. If an Yfke is female, her Sylf is male and vice versa. Nice thing for a tragic romance, except for one teeny, tiny catch…Sylfs don't really care about their Yfke.

You can kill an Yfke while his/her soul isn't fully absorbed by his/her Sylf to kill them both, but then again, the Sylf could hasten the process to save himself/herself. But an early absorption like that makes the soul too weak to take all the power and the Sylf will need to fine his next Yfke immediately.

Argh, too many complications. That's why we Agalyans don't think too much about it. We let families grieve for their dead Yfke relative, but we didn't want to get involved too much. It was just the way of things.

"Have they found his new BloodSoul?" I asked.
Taran's eyes narrowed slightly. "No."
"You're not going, are you?" I asked glumly.
"Eyraren of the city are required to attend," Auryon replied. "It was me who bound her to him…after all."

I nodded. I knew I wasn't allowed to come with them, especially since it was bound to be crowded. Veryo Skye had a way of attracting crowds, I keep seeing it happen on TV.


Night came and my parents left for the main city square. I closed the shop and went upstairs to change. Me and the roof had some bonding to do.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky as I stared up the star-flecked sky. The cool night air breeze blew through me, my unbound dark purple hair slightly rippling. There was no noise on the streets – either they all went to watch the cremation (no respect, much?) or they were watching it live on TV (people should really mind their own business). I could see why the media was very, very interested – death of an Yfke in the Royal Family was big news.

"You're not going?" a familiar voice called.
I turned. "Why is it that when I'm on the roof, so are you?"

Varos laughed and jumped over to join me. His shirt was unbuttoned, the moonlight just enough to let me see that toned chest. I looked away, trying not to blush.

"You're not exactly quiet as a mouse when you're climbing up here," he remarked. "I wonder how your parents sleep through it."
I gave him a look. "That doesn't give you leave to follow."
Varos played with a lock of my hair. "You look…lonely. Like you're waiting for something."
"Maybe I am," I mumbled hoping he didn't hear me. He did.
"Who are you waiting for?" he asked softly.
"No one," I said quickly. "It's nothing."
"Damn it, why is it when I ask something extremely personal, you try to avoid the question at all costs?!" Varos demanded. "Whenever it's about your feelings or wishes, or dreams, you always change the subject. I'm your best friend Leja…don't you trust me?"
"O-of course I trust you," I stammered. "It's just that….it's…it's complicated."
"Then tell me!" he insisted. "I want to help you!"
You're my problem! I wanted to shout. How the hell can I tell you what I feel if it means destroying our friendship?!!
Varos took my hand. "Leja…tell me."
"I can't." I shook my head. "Our friendship will fall apart. I can't take that risk."
"It won't, I promise. Just tell me what's wrong."

My heart pounded hard in my chest, threatening to burst out of my ribcage. What should I do? Tell…don't tell…tell…don't tell…Argh, I can't think straight!

"I can't you Varos," I heard myself saying. "But I can show you."

Before he could say anything, I closed the space between us and covered his lips with mine.

Now, before you say I was perfectly insane, I had already kind of acknowledged the fact that I probably was. The mental debate was too much okay?! I knew I was insane, I was kissing my best friend for God's sake!

His lips were warm, soft…just like what I've dreamed of and possibly more. I felt him soon wrap his arms around me and my eyes grew wide. Before I knew it he was the one controlling the kiss. Varos kissing me back was the very last thing I expected…Was I dreaming again?

"I get the message," he chuckled weakly. "How very straightforward of you."
I felt flags of color sweep over my face. "Sorry."
"Don't be." He rested his forehead against mine. "I've wanted to do that ever since you were fifteen."
"R-really?"
"I've always liked you, Leja. I've just been too afraid to tell you because I thought you didn't like me back."
I laughed. "I suppose you're thankful I made the first move?"
He brushed his lips against mine. "Very." He pulled away a little. "Do you want to see the cremation?"
"Huh?" I looked at him, confused.
"At the city square. Let's go see it."
"Why…?" I asked.
"You've always been curious about the Sylfs," he said. "Tonight will be a good opportunity to see them up close."
"I thought you didn't like them."
"I don't. But you sort of do." He smiled. "I know you wanted to go with your parents. It's a small sacrifice I'm willing to make."
"You do realize the roads are going to be jammed," I pointed out.
"Who said anything about driving there?"