"Unbind Me" For Eimear. --> Feel Free To Write What You Want!

"Unbind me" for Eimear. --> feel free to write what you want!

They were hot, sweaty, and Havelock was so close. The ropes at her wrists, the way she squirmed so sweetly away from and then toward him, it drove him mad.

But then, she cried, “No, no, pumpkin, pumpkin!”

He stopped, unlooped the knots from the bedpost, pulled her into his arms. “Shhh,” he soothed Eimear, holding her close, stroking that fine red hair. “It’s okay, you’re free now, see?” He drew one of her freshly unbound hands in front of her face so that she could know it to be true.

"I spoke true: when you say stop, we stop."

TMI in reference to her love life: What is Milli's real choice, whether or not she'll act on? Could she be swayed away from that choice?

Assuming she has a choice?

Jack and Ainsley have each other, and as much as she cares for them she'll only ever be tangential. She knows this and still wants to be with them. But she knows that giving them up won't hurt either them or her more than it already does.

Cia...she doesn't know where Cia is coming from. She has tried so hard but gotten almost no where. She likes Cia, wants to be with her...but it would almost be easier on them both if the cut ties. At least Milli is slowly starting to think that (whether or not Cia agrees with any of the above is an entirely different story ;P).

Tom gives Milli affection and love, silliness and sweetness, protection. He's direct and calm and honest with her. The choice for Tom is really kinda easy. But she also knows that he wouldn't give up the other women in his life and she's trying to figure out if that is something she can live with (she did it for Jack, though, so chances are good she can).

If Tom hurt her badly. If Cia made a decision to really try to hold onto her. If Jack and Ainsley decided they needed a full-on third. Those things could change her choice.

It's like...Milli! In a tattoo!

Had a rad day tattooing a rad dude from Canada today . It was rad . … Rad!

Tattoo by Sim, Cosmic Tattoo UK

Remember Me.

She liked the sunlight, the movement of the leaves in the wind. Soft things. The world felt distant to her. Disconnected.

She smiled at the nurse who came to change the bandages. The woman wrote, “Does anything hurt?” on the pad of paper beside her bed. Smiling, she shook her head. The medication was more than effective on that regard. She vaguely wished she could hear people talking, but it wasn’t a dire need. Maybe that was the medication, too.

For over two weeks she’d been in this hospital, surrounded by kind doctors and nurses who took care of her, brought her food, had stilted conversations with her via the pad of paper.

There had been an accident, she was given to know. She had been…damaged. Her hearing was part of it, along with who she was. What she had been doing. No friends or family came to see her, but she found she didn’t mind the solitude. It worried the staff far more than it did her. She liked the simplicity of things. Staring out the window, watching the birds in the tree.

She had dozed off when something made her bed dip. With a flurry of hands to keep her balance, despite not being about to fall off, she awoke. A pretty woman sat on the bed beside her, bright red hair and a bouquet of flowers. Her lips were moving, but of course she couldn’t hear it.

She smiled at the woman, pointed to her own ears, and shook her head. Then she pointed to the pad and pen.

The woman looked at her, her face seeming to lose all expression for a moment. Then she wrote, “What happened, Milli?”

She cocked her head at that. She’d been told her name was Millicent. But it wasn’t important. “I don’t know,” she wrote back. “Who are you?” She softened the words with a smile.

The woman stared at her a long time, searching her face for something. She couldn’t keep smiling in the face of so much weight, so she let herself drift, stared out the window again. “My name is Cia. I’m a friend,” the woman held the pad up in front of her.

She nodded, frowning. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” she wrote, which seemed appropriate. Everyone was sad she didn’t remember. Except her. She was just…empty. The woman looked empty, too. Blank.

"I love you, Milli," she wrote. "Please remember me?" Despite the blank look, the woman swallowed hard.

She shook her head. There was nothing, just this shifting fog. “What did we do together?” she wrote.

The woman traded the bouquet of flowers for the pad, leaving them in her lap. She touched them delicately, not watching the woman write. After a few moments, she glanced up. Something had been written, but the motion of writing had stopped. The woman stared straight ahead, looking at nothing.

With a sudden flurry of movement the woman slapped the pad on the table and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. Then she was gone, not looking back. The only word left on the pad was, “Nothing.”

Milli and Tia. Chatting.

In Your Skin, pt 1

"How long can a person live outside of their skin?" Tia asked plainly, gazing over towards Millicent Bowyen with a curious quirked brow. The very image of it had been running through her mind since the assignment was delivered.

Milli frowned, obviously giving the question some thought. “Do you mean, as in they’ve been skinned, how long can they remain alive? Or as in their soul has been removed, how long would the body survive?” The fact that she knew people who would likely know the answer to both those questions was something she didn’t examine too closely. 

Tia shook her head dismissively at the second theory, “They’ve been skinned alive,” she confirmed. As it seemed Milli had knowledge, Tia took the time to reach within her jacket and retrieved a simple leather bound book with yellow parchment paper hidden within. The maroon silk bookmark was gripped to pull the book open to a blank page. She sat at the table on an empty wall of Mili’s shop, peering over it for a quill to write with.

Milli pointed to the pen near the edge of one of the boxes, “Right there, dear,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure how long someone can survive that.If they had medical attention, I think it would help them keep alive longer, but I’ve certainly never heard of anyone going back to their life having been skinned. What are you planning, if I may ask?”

Tia nodded as Milli spoke, jotting down notes intently. Ideas formed in her mind, methods that could be used to prolong the life of such a victim. “There is a charr who has taken to a cased style of skinning,” she paused, peering up to Milli to see if she knew what a cased style was. She was prepared to explain if not, but gave the woman the benefit of the doubt.

Milli shook her head. “A cased style? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with it. And what are you doing with a charr?” she asked, obviously disgusted by the idea.

Tia addressed the style first, “It’s where you hang the furbearer, or in this case a human, upside down by the feet. You then cut the skin along the ankles and pull the skin off over their head, like a sweater. There is also open style where you would cut them down the middle and pull the skin apart, stretching it. As for my involvement, this charr is an assignment,” she said simply. She was just as disgusted by the act, but seemed delighted at the opportunity to punish the charr’s transgressions.

Milli nodded, understanding. “So you’re trying to get the charr blamed for something?” She shrugged. “I don’t know anything about it myself, but it sounds like something the Doctor Morsus could help you with. I made him an iron maiden and a nasty little torture collar a while back, so I imagine he’d know a thing or two about skinning and then keeping the person alive. He’s been ill lately but I think he’s getting better. What I would recommend,” she said, taking the pen from Tia’s hand and jotting in the woman’s notebook,”.. is that you contact Jackrel at Lady Corpus’s house. He’ll know where to find November. Er, Doctor Morsus, I mean. Does that help you?” she asked, smiling.

Tia nodded, “Slightly, though it isn’t about blaming. The charr is indeed guilty of the crime, I simply wish to end him appropriately,” she said casually as she eyed over the notes. “Do you like fur coats?” she added at the end. She hated being wasteful.