Title: Ink & Impulse
Fandom: Bravely Default
Rating: PG
Length: 716 words
Summary: Ringabel is intrigued by all that tattoos can convey.

"Tattoos are permanent," Tiz says. "I've helped tattoo sheep. As long as it's done properly, it won't fade."

Ringabel's eyes flick away from the hulking man in the corner of the bar, tattooed on every visible inch of skin, to look at Tiz. He's been caught at being interested, eh? "Better than my memory, then," the amnesiac responds flippantly, glancing back to the colorful man with a little more discretion this time. He's a walking canvas of art, of ideas that move with him; it's easy to tell where he hails from when the rocky mountains of Eisenberg's northeast coast jut along his right shoulder, that he feels some allegiance or attachment to the Swordbearers with their emblem plunging down his arm. Were Agnès here, Ringabel could ask her what the Adventist script curling around the man's thick wrist means, but he feels certain it must be a personal motto. At least, that's what he would make it, if he were to ingrain something in his very skin.

He's grown quite fond of reading the journal that he found with him and writing in it. Now, suddenly, he sees that he's been carrying a blank journal with him this entire time, and he's burning with the thought of what his first mark on the fresh parchment could be.

"I just want to make sure you know. None of us would stop you from getting a tattoo," Tiz continues, sounding very clearly like he has half a mind to stop him. "But you could, I don't know, give yourself more time to figure out who you are before you decide to brand yourself? You might change your mind in a year and hate it."

Ringabel smiles wanly. Tiz means well, he knows; he's simply trying to be the voice of reason to Ringabel's impulsiveness, and Ringabel knows enough of himself to say he is highly impulsive. Tiz may even be right about him hating it in the future. But. "I would at least have that indelible memory with me." And that is appealing enough to combat any prospect of future remorse.

"Oh." All at once, the boy's resistance melts, the corners of his lips turning down; now he just looks sad for Ringabel. "That's true."

His companion is one who feels very strongly for others. Ringabel shakes his head. "Then would you do the honors?"

Any sense of solemnity is shattered as Tiz leans back in his chair, his eyes wide. "No way. You must be joking."

"I am."

"If you're getting a tattoo, you're going to someone who knows how to do it properly, and on people."

"You're not interested in broadening your expertise?"

It's so easy to bait the younger boy sometimes, but now Tiz is catching on and he relaxes. "You're too much like a horny ram for it to be much different."

Ringabel laughs in surprise, but even a man with no memory knows that calls for a comeback, and the conversation devolves into lighthearted banter and jocular insults, then turns to a different topic when Ringabel spies a cute barmaid (a familiar conversation, which is always heavily one-sided; Tiz is a good listener to fall quiet as the vagrant of love waxes rhapsodical about the qualities of women). By the end of the meal, Ringabel still remembers the man with the tattoos, but he doubts Tiz does.

Which is why he's taken off-guard two days later when Tiz nonchalantly tells him there is a reputable tattoo artist on Grandship. Ringabel finds there's too many possibilities to consider all at once. He could provide the artist with a drawn reference of any of his sparse memories, but what should it be? Caldisla, the city where he was found? The Eschalot, which he yearns to return to the skies because he loved flying it? Some saying he could take as a motto? The lovely visage of Edea? Suddenly, he understands a little of Tiz's concern. All these ideas seem so weighty. This is his first tattoo. Perhaps he should choose something simply for fun and not put too much stock in it.

Tiz, to his credit, says nothing more than a wry "I suppose you'll always remember what you like" when Ringabel returns with a giggling succubus lounging across his upper chest.