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She’d gotten the nicest block at the helmsprocessing facility. A private one, no other trolls sharing it with her. There was a comfortable recuperacoon and comfort slab both, a TV on the wall, and she was even permitted to keep her palm husk, albeit with tight restrictions on the WiFi that someone less knowledgeable about technology than her would have found too hard to bypass. All of it, of course, was courtesy of belonging to an Orphaner.
Eridan had come with her, entirely unwilling to leave her alone for all the testing and, worse, the helmstech installation surgeries to come. She was convinced that the medicullers wouldn’t treat Sollux well if she wasn’t there to threaten them and remind them of her status as one of the most highly revered violets of their generation, and she was probably right. In any case, Sollux was glad to have the company of her mate.
“I wish we had a chance to get our quad marks done for real,” she mumbled gloomily, giving Eridan’s hand a sharp, passionate squeeze, hard enough that the tips of her claws dug into her just a little. “Before all this. Who knows when we’ll get the chance now?”
Eridan, for a moment, looked equally gloomy. Her full lips were downturned into a pout, brows furrowing in thought. Trying to figure out how to tempt or spoil her into being distracted from any negative feelings, probably. Then, seeming to come to a decision, she said, “We’ll get it done, Sol. As soon as you’re recovered and get settled on the ship, I’ll start lookin’ into it. Money talks. I’m sure to find someone who’ll do quad marks for a captain and her helmsman if I tip ‘em heavily enough. Real pretty ones too, with shimmery ink. They’ll be perfect.”
“Yeah,” she said, trying to force a smile so Eridan would think she’d been successful in pacifying her. “Yeah, alright. If anyone can do it, I’m sure it’s you.” It was hard though, to feel optimistic about much of anything when she was sitting in her sterile, unfamiliar comfort slab, blankets pooled in her lap and the residue of the previous day’s sopor patch still sticky on her upper arm. She was going into surgery the following night, and she knew that even with Eridan threatening every mediculler in the building to do their best work, she’d be in agony for some time after.
Eridan scowled, momentarily baring the razor-sharp points of her teeth. She didn’t believe her. Then she got up from her chair in favor of curling up with Sollux on the comfort slab, curling around her with an open, eager need. Sollux could do nothing but melt into her, feeling the whole long line of her soon-to-be-opened spine against the softness of Eridan’s front.
“You belong to me regardless,” Eridan reminded her. “It’s legal and everythin’ now, got the papers sayin’ it. And it’s long since settled emotionally, you know that. Quad marks are grand, but they’re just a symbol. A worthwhile tradition, but it doesn’t define us, it doesn’t give us nothin’ we didn’t already have besides some pretty tattoos.”
“Well, aren’t you romantic?” she teased gently, for lack of anything else to say. She’d long known about Eridan’s fanciful, romantic side, even if she tended to hide it around everyone else. It meant a lot that her mate was doing all this, even when it flew directly in the face of imperial tradition and all the things she was expected to do to maintain her status without question. It was just... pretty tattoos or not, Sollux desperately wanted them. If she wasn’t a psion, soon to be strung up in a helm, there would be no difficulty. They could’ve gotten them already.
“Apparently me bein’ romantic ain’t enough to get you to stop poutin’ this time.” Eridan pulled her closer against her, pressing a kiss to her temple and then trailing a few more down the side of her face, until she reached the very corner of her lips. That final kiss was denied, snatched away from her, and Sollux knew that she’d need to ask for it. But her mind was still on the quad marks, so much that she couldn’t even beg for kisses.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, slumping down against her more. “I’m just worried about tomorrow, I guess.”
“I’ll fix it,” Eridan promised, giving her the kiss unasked. “I’ll make it better, babygirl.”
“I know you will,” Sollux replied in turn, assuming she meant after. After they were on the ship, after she’d healed, the life they were going to construct together to make up for the misery of being a helmsman. But instead, Eridan straightened up again, still holding her close, and fumbled in the pockets of her coat until she pulled out a permanent marker.
“It’s black, I know, not either of our colors, but it’ll do for now.” With no more explanation than that, she uncapped the pen and pushed up Sollux’s sleeve for her. The marker tip was cool against her skin as Eridan scrawled two jagged lines on the inside of her forearm, a perfect representation of Eridan’s own sign. Then she leaned in and blew on it gently to help it dry, breath sending shivers down Sollux’s spine.
“There. What do you think? You’re mine, official on your skin and everythin’. I’ll re-draw it every time it fades until we can get real ones.” Eridan was beaming, and when she was happy like that, she was softer and more luminous than the moons. “You wanna do mine?”
She rolled up her own sleeve and passed Sollux the marker. It took a great deal of effort to tear her eyes away from the dark ink still drying on her own skin, but she did. So focused on perfection her hand was nearly shaking, she drew her own sign on Eridan, two strong pillars and the swooping top and bottom. When she was done, she blew on it just like her mate had done, still halfway curled in her embrace. The warmth of her breath made Eridan giggle, airy and real.
“You’re mine,” Eridan reminded her again. “And I’m yours.”