(IC) Metalhead

My father would kill me.

Yes, he understands as well as any learned Gallente how important tattooing is to a Minmatar. He would be proud to see me earning my ink.

It’s everything else. The piercings. He always hated the metal. He once noted in a secret communique during my academy days that he was pleased my dreadlocks would cover up all the interfaces that a capsuleer needed to have in the back of his head and neck. I went with a fairly robust interface suite and nobody could tell. I have not contacted him since graduation.

This, though. I look in the mirror and laugh. He would freak. Chin, lip, tongue, nose, ears, eyebrows and forehead. The full don’t-fuck-with-me-I’m-Minmatar package. A few Valkear on shoreleave I had been speaking to in a bar had talked me into it. I may have been inebriated at the time.

I don’t regret it. Most of it is removable and interchangable anyways, except for the tongue. A small tetrapalladium stud that some of the new mystics say allows you to speak to spirits. I correct those that seem willing to listen, and in weaving my tales I attracted the attention of those three Valkears. Still, I thought it was an amusing idea. Did I mention how much Valkears drink?

The day before I had been considering reconnecting with my adopted Gallente father. The danger to him that I and my genesis represented long passed. Now I can only wonder what he would say.

I request for Aura to open a commline. Time to roll the dice.

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~ by psychediver on 04/08/2011.

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