The morning's echoes of last night's thunderstorm roiled the clouds outside the huge, panoramic windows. Ashin slid farther into the blankets, nestling up against Spencer -- but gently, so as not to spill the girl's hot chocolate. She retrieved her own mug and sipped appreciatively. "Well, there's the scars," she said, "and all of those have their stories. But you mean the ink."
She burrowed her lower body farther under the blankets as she replaced the mug on the side table. Rolling onto her belly, she pulled up the back of her long shirt to expose pale, scarred skin from the small of her back to her shoulderblades. She bunched up the shirt and held it, giving Spencer a decent view of the
huge tattoo that marked the center of her back. "This one was the mark of the Cult of Shadow, far away from known space. They were my enemies, they captured me, they forced me to do things I would have preferred not to do -- and so I destroyed them. The tattoo's ink includes Sith Poison. I've got about five kinds of it in my blood. Don't worry, it's not infectious. You can't catch the Dark Side by spending quality time with me, honey."
She shuffled down the back of the shirt and rolled over, then pulled down the neck. "This mark here, right on my sternum, that's the mark of Naga Sadow. Now there was a man who understood that he could create stability, order, creation or chaos, and that the only limits he needed to accept were those he imposed on himself. I would probably kill him if I met him, but his legacy taught me to go and get whatever it is that I decide I need to go and get. It's thanks to Naga Sadow that I have you."
Again, she rolled over, this time half-way, pulling up her multitude of long, thin braids. On the back of her neck were two
kanji, artistic writing, in reddish-brown just like the mark on Spencer's lip. "The blood trails of my old friends Ember Rekali and Halla Kitani Kaijus. They can always find me -- well, Ember can. I had to cut Halla off from the Force, for good. It was either that or let her destroy everything."
She rolled over again and settled in, nestling against Spencer. She arched back her neck so Spencer could get a clearer view of the tiny, simple outline of a hand, on the side of her neck. "And then there's my Red Coterie tattoo. I'm part of a secret group, made up of people from all factions and walks of life, who support each other. There's some magic woven into that one -- it's why the Coterie calls me Blood Writer. I was never one for tattoos, growing up, but they have their uses. They have meaning. I might even whip up a special batch of ink for you, if you were ever interested."
