Sapphire Ambassadors

Dressed demurely in the simple kimono she tends to use for her presentations, Sriyani scratches gently at Yoshiaki's door, a small bundle held in the other hand. She's not entirely certain she's prepared for the process of this art, but knows that the result is worth getting through that process. The fact that she can expect some comfort afterward, that probably isn't part of the standard practice.

She would hear the gentle footfalls pad toward the door as it's opened slightly, a silver eye peering out before it swings fully open revealing the pale dragon smiling warmly as he stepped aside allowing her to enter. "Good evening Riya-chan." He greeted warmly.

His room was rather orderly compared to hers, his art taking up far less space, a few stacks of orderly papers and binders sat on a table. Everything seemed to have a place, books stacked neatly and it seemed that everything here could fit in a travel sack or two.

One spot seemed set aside for tonight's activity, well one of them, A chair was set up with bottles of ink lined up next to it and a well crafted wooden box a pillow was set in front of the chair and candles were set up all around. To bathe the area in as much light as possible.

Her own smile is gently radiant, "Yoshi-kun," is said quietly. The endearments making it more obvious that the art, while desired, is only part of the purpose of the evening. She enters, turning to watch him close the door, hands primly settled in front of her, holding the small bundle.

"Your room looks almost exactly as I'd expect from knowing you this short time." Tidy, uncomplicated by extras. As soon as the door slips closed, she's reaching for him. It's hard right now, being near him without touching. That need might fade over time, if time was a thing they had. Her welcoming kiss will be anything but demure.

"What can i say? I dont want for many objects." He smiles with a soft brightness as she approaches him, arms wrapping around her as he kisses her back pulling her against him into a firm embrace.

He pulls back a little their faces still close "and that is something that's been running through my mind all day."

Eyes bright, she nods agreement. "It's a sweetness I can't get tired of." One hand rests gently at his hip as they separate. The other lifts, with the cloth-wrapped package. "And sweet sakura mochi to sustain us through the night."

Fingers stroking gently at his side, she looks to the space set up. "It looks almost like a throne..." with the cushion for a chancellor to sit nearby, or some other court functionary.

He smiles at the parcel in her hands "always the thoughtful one." He says warmly giving her a quick kiss on the forehead "I have some tea prepared as well a bit energizing for the hour but it'll help keep my focus sharp."

He followed her eyes "Ah I suppose it can seem that way. Its a rather plain set up from what I'm used to but certainly serviceable."

She nods with a smile. "All things considered, I think I want your focus sharp, yes." A small grin lifts her lips, "I'd imagine we're drinking it hot this time? Also to ahh...help with focus?" The hand at his hip slips around to his back as she steps in again to rest her head on his chest. "mmm, and not just your focus. I assume I need to sit quite still."

From that warm, and comforting position, she asks, "what more do you usually have set up?"

He would nod before nuzzling his face into her dark hair "yes it would likely be to both our benefit if you stayed as still as you can. At least your leg. You can move from the waist up a bit just nothing too sudden."

He regarded the set up with a thoughtful look "hmm not more necesarrily just different. Usually it's a room dedicated to the art, I also usually do this during the day." He says with a little chuckle.

"We *could* do it during the day if it's helpful." She breathes in and out slowly, settled against him and reaching for the calm he seems made of and the comfort of the embrace, rather than the hunger that lies close by. Comfort to settle the small thrill of nerves at what's ahead.

Pulling back a bit she asks. "Tea first..or during?"

"But then I would miss my nights with you." He said smiling "unless you come to my rooms for hours during the day and pad through here at night but I expect that will set the tongues wagging." He chuckled a bit. He was calm outwardly but becoming familiar with him as she was she would see that heat behind the cool eyes, his own hunger rising now that she was here in his arms.

"We can drink during. It sometimes helps to have other things to think about and do during the process." He gives her a soft kiss before taking a little step back "your throne awaits." He says with a smile.

She breathes through the kiss, holding back to merely tender, though the tightening of her hands on his arms hints at the effort of that. "Multiple sessions, rest in between. Rest is important, right?" she says, grinning. "But no, you're right. So, my throne. Ruling...this room, I suppose? Though you're definitely the one in charge of this process."

She takes a step toward the chair, loosening the obi and layers of ties on her kimono. "How...hmm, disrobed do you need me. You're poking skin, and I sort of assume there's blood?" She pauses a moment in the process, glancing around. "And, do you have some clear water?"

He smiled at her as she moved toward the chair nodding "yes I have one" he said moving a bowl of clean water over to the area along with a clean cloth.

"And you should be as disrobed as you feel comfortable with. I will need access to the area you want the work done on and enough clearance to avoid soiling your clothes with blood or excess ink." He said setting the bowl and cloth down next to the needles.

While her comfort level around showing skin in this room is rather high, for the sake of not fading out a tattooing session, Sriyani's level of undress remains narratively vague as she settles into the chair, adjusting to allow her thigh to remain comfortably accessible. She nods a thank you for the water and cloth, using them to first clean the area, with a quiet prayer of purification. Then, dipping a finger into the water, she traces symbols, only momentarily visible on already damp skin.

"Everything still needs purification after, but there's no reason not to be careful when you can be, and blood's involved," She explains, finally leaning in to examine the needles she'd been avoiding looking too closely at. A calming breath and she nods again, looking up to Yoshiaki, shoulders easing a bit just looking at him instead of the needles. She wasn't sure when she'd stop having to pause a moment to take in his unusual beauty before continuing on with whatever she was doing.

"And now I watch you make something beautiful, hmm?"

Yoshiaki for his part simply watches the ritual with attention, something somewhat new to him as he knew little of priests and priestesses and their cleansing. He had seen a tamori or two but this was somewhat unique.

As she examined the needles laying in a silk lined case of fine finished wood she would see they were around a foot long of polished steel. In the flickering candle light she would catch glimpses of engravings, everything from clouds and dragons and other mythical beasts and then a portion left bare of markings.

He knelt on the cushion before her, he leaned forward and kissed her softly. Pulling back from it he gave her a steady look "you'll be ok." He said softly reading a bit of her concern. He grabbed a needle and a pot of ink and gently he began his work the cold and a slight Piercing pin prick of sharp steel began "you will be a lovely canvas." He noted as he started.

After the honesty in that kiss, his words can't help but strike home, and he can see the warm trust in her eyes as she nods, easing a bit into the chair. The first bite of steel tenses her a moment, but it passes. She warms to the thought of being his canvas, letting it ease any nerves for now "Just a pinch yet." Quietly she says, "your canvas, for all my life...yours." There's a soft wonder to her tone as the realization truly sets in.

After a moment, she simply takes the opportunity to watch him, observe his focus and movements without the distractions of what lies between them. The drape of silver hair in candlelight and steady movement of his hands, offer a distraction from awareness of the needles slipping in and out of her skin. It's probably not as long as it feels to her before she asks, "Is talking ok? Or too distracting..." she pauses to force herself to hold still at a suddenly sharper pain...striking a sensitive nerve, perhaps, her indrawn breath held for a moment before relaxing back into the chair. "Wondered if the images on the needles meant something."

She can't see the smile on his lips with his head pointed down to her thigh but she may hear it in his voice "So long as you keep this patch of skin yes. mine." His voice was warm and softer after the small pause.

He moves with confidence and a sure hand, the jabs of the needle are quick and precise. He moves at a steady pace, almost imperceptible movements after each one. He leans close to her leg his head angled just so to let the candle light shine across her tanned skin, such a beautiful color.

He doesn't physically react but she hears him speak "Talking is fine. I often chat with my brothers and sisters while I work. My hands know the way." He quiets for a moment a handful of points of color added "the needles were gifted to me by my sensei just before I left for the tournament. They were given to him by his sensei and his sensei before that. They are an Inheritance of sorts, the engravings are done by each artist who holds them. After I get back I will add my own to them."

Cool pricks grow warm and somewhat painful as he works, but she finds it reasonably easy to latch onto his calm and hold herself still. She can't see the work very well. But knowing what some of hers look like when half-finished, that seems just as well.

"That's a lovely tradition. Do you know much of those who held them before you? Or just your sensei?" Her voice holds some of her tension, but also a bit of distance as she finds her meditation training pulling her a bit to the side, mentally, to watch the words, and the prickling cool/hot ache come and go without holding on to any of them. "Do you know what you'll add yet?"

Blinking as she watches him dip needle to ink, another question occurs. "Are some colors harder than others?" She doesn't elaborate...harder to make, to apply? More painful? More rare?

He hears the disconnect in her voice and nods lightly, it was a good strategy for avoiding the pain. The work was steady but tedious as it was happening. These pricks were all uniform since he was working mostly on line work, both one if the simplest but also most important.

"I know a little of my Sensei's Sensei but I was very young when he passed. He was a kind man, very full of life to the end." He said grabbing the cloth and wetting it to wipe away some of the blood and excess ink "as for my contribution to the needle, I haven't quite decided."

"Color difficulty depends on the tone and texture of the canvas. Some skin takes the ink better than others, yours is darker which means lighter colors will be more difficult. Not impossible mind you, some tattooist claim dark skin can't have colors and this is simply a lack of knowledge. You just have to use the right colors in the right amount." A hand brushed along her thigh above the tattoo "so far you take the black quite well, I was right about how lovely your skin is for working with." He says briefly looking up to her moving hair from his face and smiling warmly to her before resuming his work.

"It's good to have those sorts of elders around. A lot of knowledge to pass along." She's quiet a moment as he wipes at the tender skin. The change in sensation interrupting thought and focus. "umm..and your sensei? What was...is he like? How long before you start teaching someone?" Her hands clench and release as she resists reaching to trail her fingers through his hair as she recalibrates.

She returns his smile, a flush blooming on her cheeks. The warmth sparked by that gentle brush distracting from that of the tattoo in progress. "So just black so far?" A short, self-conscious laugh is cut off, laughter shakes everything, after all. "It's odd to feel...glad? A little proud? that I can be a good canvas. It's not as if I did anything. My skin is what it is through no work of my own."

"Patient." He says simply at first "kind as well. Could be exacting his expectations at times. Though that's far from the worst trait in a teacher." He continues working steadily his needle moving slowly across her skin "as for when I will take a student that will be when I decide to. It is likely expected but the elders rarely force people into those situations. Those that seek to teach make the best teachers."

"And yes just black for now, tonight the goal is to get the linework done and then go over colors slowly over the next few nights."

"I don't think it's odd to be happy about something that comes naturally. You enjoy being appreciated, that's a very normal thing."