A New Tattoo

“But the god of the sea is dead…they all are. No prayers are answered, no angels sent…we are on our own.” The tattooist, Zekial Kain criticized his patrons choice of potential tattoos.

“I’ll tattoo the sigil, likeness, face or favorite phrase of whatever god or power will get me through these seas should any of them still exist! If there is no god of storms, then where do the storms come from?! Now do it or lose my coin!” Timm extorted in frustration at all the questions.

“Fine. Take off your shirt and sit in the chair.” Zekial instructed while getting his instruments ready.

The hours passed as Zekial carved and drew the likeness of the supposedly dead god of the sea over Timm’s right shoulder. The conversation varied, drifted and paused as long ones seem to do. After the screams from someone’s night terrors in the deck below woke half the ship, another crew member came up.

“So the animal trainer, the guy covered in shit, he helped with the problems we had at sea?” Zekial asked Timm.

“Yea. He did…he was actually an integral part of why we succeeded…I just wish he didn’t smell like shit…why the fuck would you cover yourself in…” Timm didn’t have a chance to finish.

“To hide in plain sight.” Zekial answered. “No one wants to be near him, those who get close turn away, it’s a defense…something terrible has happened to him, most likely when he was young…he does it to protect himself. It’s also why some people get tattoos.”