While that wasn’t such an abnormal thing back on Earth, or, at least, most men wouldn’t admit otherwise, for this Oraku male being friends with a female was quite the novelty. And as she got to know him beyond his reputation, Shalia had no further desire to toy with the poor man’s attraction. He was hurting, though he wouldn’t admit it, and while her initial game had been somewhat of a fun thrill, the desire to play those games had evaporated almost as quickly as they’d appeared.
There was a bit of attraction, as was natural between compatible men and women, but Shalia and Zepharos left it at that. An attraction but nothing more. At least for now.
She only asked for his assistance with her lotion on the areas shereallycouldn’t reach over the next several days, and she was glad to find her skin healed up quite well from her sunburn in exceptionally quick time. In only four days, she was not only well-rested and in good spirits, but fully healed and ready for her date with the Skrizzit.
Skrizzits, she had learned, were those with a skill set, not a particular race. This particular skill was essentially that of a tattoo artist. But while anyone could learn how to use the tools and apply designs to varying degrees of success, a true Skrizzit was born with an innate sense for design flow and rune placement almost akin to an empathic response. When dealing with all manner of races, it was crucial that a Skrizzit be able to adapt the Dotharian runes to best suit each individual’s particular morphology.
They also had a gift for the selection and blending of pigments. While a lesser Skrizzit might stick with the simpler, dark lines of their earliest days of training, a skilled one could accent their work with the pricier and brighter colors. Colors thatoften possessed additional power that the recipient may or may not incorporate into their system.
With Heydar still away with Darla at their private couple’s retreat, the Oraku would be providing the services of a slight, middle-aged man named Yarro. He was the same pale green as the other Oraku, but this man was covered head-to-toe in incredibly fine-line tattoos of a dazzling variety of shapes and colors, all of them delicately linked by swooping lines that followed the shape of his body.
He visited Shalia in her quarters in the early afternoon. Zepharos had stopped by earlier and delivered what looked like a massage table for her to get comfortable on. After easing into the rhythm of village life, Shalia was already relaxed and ready for the process. No additional preparation would be required.
“This should be interesting,” he said in a soft but deep voice that carried with a timbre that somehow seemed larger than his diminutive frame.
“Interesting? That’s not exactly reassuring,” she said with a nervous laugh.
“Do not worry. I only refer to your race. I have never marked the runes on one from your world before. Your physiology is quite similar to our own, however, and I do not foresee any issues.”
“Good save, Yarro.”
He flashed an amused little grin and opened his case, revealing row after row of small jars and vials, each with a different color pigment within. He pulled out a few larger ones, then unlocked a small compartment. In it, there were a handful of tiny vials containing faintly glowing colors. Light violet, pale yellow, and vibrant white, among them. The living pigments were beautiful.
“Wow,” she gasped with honest appreciation despite her reluctance at the idea of being required to be tattooed.
“Yes, wow,” the Skrizzit replied with a chuckle. “These pigments are normally reserved for leader and royalty class. But as you are a friend of Darla and her Nimenni heir and mate, it hasbeen decreed that you shall receive the finest of our pigments worked into your markings.”
“That’s great, and I appreciate it, really. But is this going to hurt?”
“Hurt? Not much. There will be some discomfort, but there should be little if any pain. As I said, I have not worked on your race before, so I cannot give you a more definitive answer. I see you have received the translation rune already. Quite nice work, though the pigment is of a lower quality than I’d like. I will touch it up as we progress. Now, did that rune hurt in its application?”
“Not really, I suppose, but I woke up with it. Heydar put it on me while I slept right after the Raxxians took me.”
A sour look crossed the Skrizzit’s face. “Damnable race, the Raxxians. I am so sorry you had to endure their brutality.”
“Well, at least I wasn’t eaten.”
“Yes, indeed. I’m glad you can see the positive even in a difficult situation.”
“Sure, but we were freed from the Raxxians only to wind up held by a group of Dohrags.”
Yarro winced at the name. “Another abhorrent people. You’ve really had a rough go of it, my dear.”
“I’ll say.”
“But Dohrags, they always mark their captives. May I please see what marking they put on you?”
Shalia shrugged off the robe she was wearing. The man was going to be working on her entire body, she figured there was no need for modesty at this point. He leaned in close, examining the marking on her collarbone with great interest.
“Hmm. This is an unusually well-marked insignia. Whoever did this has a gift for detail work. Another prisoner?”
“No, actually. It was their commander.”
“A Dohrag did this himself? How unusual.”
“He’s not like the usual Dohrags. He’s a half-breed, from what my friend Margussa told me. Taller than most, with a normal noseand a lighter gray-blue skin tone than the others. His forehead isn’t as wide as theirs either.”
Yarro nodded. “That must be the one called Valin.”
