Not that they can. We’re outnumbered.
I shudder at the thought and walk faster toward a store called a tattoo parlor. Through the window, I see a man sitting in a chair while a woman’s busy drawing with ink on his face.
Interesting. I wonder if this is where Chance got all his ink from.
When I push the glass door open, a bell jingles, I hurry inside, and before it can ring again, I shut the door.
“Take a seat, honey. I’ll be with you in a second,” the woman says in a friendly tone.
She has short blonde hair, making me realize I haven’t seen a deviant with long hair.
Lifting my hand, I pull my fingers through my light brown strands, wondering whether I should get it cut.
A wall filled with various pictures draws my attention, and I walk closer. There are mythical creatures, death, barbed wire, flowers, and many other images.
The metal pen the woman uses to draw makes a buzzing sound that I find weirdly calming. I glance a little longer at her and the man before I move to a display rack showcasing statues of dragons.
There’s so much to look at, but nothing really holds my attention, so I take a seat across from the man and woman to see what she’s drawing on him.
With swift movements, she inks black lines around the man’s eyes. She finishes with him and places the steel pen on a stand. It’s attached to some kind of cable.
“It might sting a bit, but you’ll be fine tomorrow,” the woman tells her customer. I watch them hug, and as the man walks toward the door, he stares at me like I’m something from outer space.
I find myself holding my breath until the door shuts behind him, then I turn my gaze back to the woman.
“What can I do for you, honey?”
I slip off the stool, not sure how to explain my presence.
“I was curious to see what you were doing,” I explain.
“Permanent makeup. Eyeliner, lipliner, eyebrows,” she says with a friendly smile. “And, occasionally, tattoos.”
“It sounds interesting,” I admit. Gesturing at the statues, I add, “I like the dragons.”
“Yeah, I have an unhealthy obsession with mythical creatures,” she chuckles. “Come on.” She nods toward the chair the man occupied a moment ago. “Let me take care of your bushy eyebrows. It will bring out the color of your eyes.”
Intrigued, I glance at the chair.
Do things work the same here as in the ecocity, where everything you need is given to you as long as you abide by the rules?
As if she can read my mind, she says, “No payment needed, sweet girl. I haven’t seen you around these parts. You’re new, aren’t you?”
I nod, suddenly feeling caught out even though I did nothing wrong. “Is it that obvious?”
The friendly woman gives me an encouraging smile. “It took me a while to get used to the outside world. Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“You were virtuous?” I ask, relieved by the news.
“Yeah. It’s been twenty years. I was kicked out because I can’t have children.”
There’s a wave of compassion in my chest. “I’m sorry.”
She waves a hand in the air, then nods at the chair again. “It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I got out.”
After I take a seat, she continues, “Here, we take care of each other and trade with each over for what we need. Everyone has a talent or gift. Farmers, soldiers, entertainers, servers. We all have our place in the ward. You’ll find where you belong soon enough.”
“Trade?” I ask, not understanding what she means.
“Yeah.” Her eyes meet mine. “A soldier will trade his ability to protect others for anything he needs.” She waves around the store. “I get paid in protection and food for my services.”
Oh. It’s still a little confusing, but I don’t ask more questions.
My gaze turns to the various metal pens laid out on the counter.
She picks up one, then murmurs, “This might sting a little.”
My eyes squint as I follow the pen's tip when it comes toward the bridge of my nose.
I feel the cold tip and a slight pinch. The pen hums softly as she moves it between my eyes, then over the top of my eyebrow as if she’s outlining each one.
“It’s looking so much better already. A bit of color would look pretty. Do you want me to color them dark brown?”
Wanting to fit in with all the other people, I nod.
“I’m Dawn, by the way.” She reaches over me for another pen.
“It’s a pretty name,” I say as my eyes flit to her. “I’m Jai.”
The pen is cold and wet as it moves over my eyebrows, but after a couple of minutes, she wipes it off with a little square tissue. When I notice the dark liquid, I start doubting whether this was a good idea.