Stigmata

“Well, how do you feel now?”

For the second time that day Vivien found herself in Brian’s arms, except she wasn’t undergoing a full mental breakdown but rather a bout of very non-vampire-like lightheadedness after the long walk back to the hotel from the tattoo parlor. Usually, it wouldn’t have been such an awful walk, but after receiving no less than four tattoos in a single sitting, even Haner agreed that Vivien was a trooper in more ways than one.

“My side still really fucking hurts, and I want a drink.”

In the end, she had somehow convinced Jimmy and Brian that the three of them needed to get a tattoo commemorating Vivien’s first tattoos, which evolved into Brian getting work done on his sleeves, and Vivien’s overly-ambitious undertaking of the outlines of her chest piece in addition to the tattoos she had already committed to, which ended with the dancer being supported between Haner and Sullivan on their way back to the bar.

“I’m thirsty too. A round of shots, Jack please? And keep ‘em coming.” Brian ordered the drinks as Jimmy sent out a general Coven notification that it was eleven o-clock and they should all be drinking at the bar with their freshly-tattooed young’n.

Val’s out cold, but I’ll come down and rage, Matt’s voice sounded over the mental line as if he were sitting right beside the trio. Zachy’s answer was likewise, he would head down as soon as the elevator stopped on his floor. Johnny, however, was already asleep as was his custom and as a result was completely unreachable.

“What’s the strongest shit you have back there, Derek my man?” Apparently Jimmy was already on a first name basis with their new bartender, and managed to procure them only slightly illegal shots of Absinthe, complete with sugar cubes to burn and everything.

“Let’s see ‘em, let’s see ‘em!” The left-handed guitarist’s voice carried so shrilly through the bar that it had to have disrupted the other patrons; this fact seemed not to matter to Zachy as he bounded between tables and groups of people like they weren’t even there. “I’m so excited, let me see, let me seeee!” He practically vibrated with excitement as Vivien began to delicately pull off the covering from her brand new tats - first the left wrist, then the right, and finally her chest piece.

“So I got black violets on my wrists, because that’s rather important, and the chest piece is going to have black roses because it’s bigger and… well, rather more important, I’d say.” The youngest of the group beamed as even Matt praised her on her tattoo choices before the group lit their sugar cubes aflame and watched them drip molten molasses into their shots. Black roses were the “international” sign for a made vampire, which was what she became when Brian had forced some of his Type O down her throat; and violets were the sign for witches, which was what she had been born, according to the frightening Crone from the Black Iris Club. She began to wonder about the necklace, but her train of thought (which was beginning to fall off the rails due to alcohol consumption) was interrupted by Matt.

“I thought there were more, though, Viv?” Always prying, Sanders had to inquire as he watched his sugar cube melt down and fizzle out of life.

“Well, yeah, but it would be awkward to show ya’all the other two ‘cause of my… outfit…” Haner cut the redhead off by handing her a still-flaming shot and urging her to drink with the rest of them.

“A toast!” The brown-eyed guitarist’s grin broadened as he held his glass up to a height where Vivien couldn’t possibly join in the toast unless she were to stand on a chair. “To Viv’s latest addiction, and to hopefully seeing her other two later tonight!” Frowning, with her head cocked to the side, the girl in question looked up at Synyster Gates with an inquiring eyebrow as the guys all cheered and took their still-warm shots. Slowly, Vivien swallowed her own shot, her questioning eyes searching for Brian’s but never quite catching them. Finally she settled for chattering with Zachy about how great her wrist tattoos looked, and if she was going to incorporate color into her chest tattoo, and exactly why he and Matt hadn’t been notified as to the special little tattoos Brian and Jimmy had gotten in celebration of Vivien’s first tats.

“I mean, there’s still time, officially my first tattoos aren’t done until I get the chest piece filled in!” Immediately, the redhead took another shot of the Peach Vodka she had ordered, for some reason she and Jack Daniels needed a break from the long relationship they had together, even though the boys still seemed to be in lust with the drink. “Yessir, next time I head in, you can get this little guy anywhere ya want!” Roughly, she seized Haner’s meaty bicep and pointed to a tiny pink pointe shoe nestled between what looked like two demon’s faces.

“Oh God, Vivien, that’s what you made them get?” Matthew piped, from where he sat, surrounded by empty shot glasses. Brian re-gained control of his arm and placed it over the little redhead’s shoulders, his hand hanging loosely in the uncomfortable region of her breasts.

“Yeah, she did, isn’t she awful!” The tall drummer almost spilled his Jack and Coke on Vivien’s bright yellow sundress, drawing a hiss from the tiny dancer.

“Jimmy didn’t complain! And watch your drink, son!”

“Who’re you calling son, woman?” The hand which dangled so dangerously close to her breasts ruffled her hair and fell back into its resting position.

“Shots!”

Vivien wasn’t certain how it happened, but for the first time since becoming a vampire she actually managed to get ridiculously and utterly trashed - blackout trashed. After a while of typical, Avenged Sevenfold drunk on tour antics (including Jimmy doing handstands and Vivien teaching the boys how to backflip in a dress - which, surprisingly, Jimmy and Matt picked up rather quickly), the bartender kicked the group out and collectively they decided to call it a night as it was officially 2:00 AM.

“Where is my room, Brian? Do you know where my room is?” Vivien slurred, clinging to the man in question as the elevator shot up to the fifteenth floor of the hotel at a sickening speed. The other guys had somehow mysteriously vanished - Vivien remembered a flicker of Brian saying he was going to see her new tattoos later that night, but just as it arrived in her mind, the recollection was gone and she was back to wondering where her room was.

“For real, where’s my room?”

“I think it’s up… Here! I found it!” The guitarist grinned like a happy puppy who had just done right by its master, and Vivien couldn’t help but pat his spiky head. Much like the gentleman Vivien knew he wasn’t, Brian held the door open for her to pass through.

“Kay, thanks, goodnight!” Viv moved to close the door, and found that Brian was still filling the doorway with his broad body. “What?”

“This is my room too for the night, cutie,” He brushed past her incredulous look, letting the door fall closed behind him. “We all share on tour!” It made more sense in his mind than it did crossing his lips, but then again, neither of them were in any shape to be judging one another on making sense and that sort of nonsense.

“Well alright then. Which bed do you want?” The tiny redhead watched as Brian dug through her suitcase and came away with a bottle of liquor which stopped her from asking questions before she could even start. “Wait, whazzat?”

“A spot of Absinthe. The real kind, that we get on tour in Europe.” Vivian was practically salivating on the bottle, standing before Brian as he perched on the bed that was still made. “You want a swig?” Instead of verbalizing her thoughts, the redhead reached out her hands for the bottle like a greedy child. “Go get those little mouthwash cups from the bathroom, those’ll be better for shots,”

Obediently, the girl found the cups he was talking about and took them out of the strange individual wrap plastic baggies hotels usually kept their cups in. “These?” Brian filled them to what he judged to be a normal shot level - actually, a double shot, but he was keeping that information for himself. Vivien tossed her plastic cup back like a pro and pouted as Brian stashed the bottle.

“Why put that away?”

“Because we’d just be wasting it!”

“I want to stay drunk!”

“And I want a pony.”

Vivien burst out laughing at this remark, and laid back on Brian’s bed - after she kicked off her heels, her feet dangled just above the hotel room’s floor. After a moment, she realized the room was spinning, and sat bolt upright to find Haner standing frozen in his boxers, halfway into the basketball shorts he usually wore to sleep. Instead of making the ruckus he had expected her to, Viv simply fell back into the plush comforter, planted one foot firmly on the floor and pulled the blankets around her, effectively ruining Brian’s bed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Viv managed a one-finger salute from within the confines of her fluffy down prison; she screeched in shock when the largest person in the room (and only other person in the room) leapt atop her in the bed, going in for a tickle attack.

“Brian!” She could hardly manage to speak between giggles. “Bri, stop it!” In an attempt to get away from him she rolled deeper and deeper into her cocoon, until her head came out the other side of the blanket.

“Come ‘ere you,” Gently, the brown-eyed guitarist reached underneath the blanket to cradle the redhead in his arms, drawing her from beneath the comforter and into his lap. She was decidedly disheveled from her encounter with the ‘tickle monster:’ Brian righted her dress on her shoulders though he could do nothing for her poor vanishing hemline. Finally, his fingers found her chin and he lifted her mouth to his; Vivien’s hands pressed against his chest as if to push him away, but for some reason the absinthe fairy in the back of her mind negotiated that kissing Brian wasn’t a bad call after all.

That warm, tingling sensation spread from his lips to hers, over her scalp. Weakly, Vivien laid one hand on Haner’s muscled back, the other on the back of his head as he kissed the side of her neck gently. His hands wandered the full range of her body, scooping beneath the hem of her dress to cup her ass and trace down the back of her thigh - Viv shivered as he traced circles in the inside of her thighs with one hand, his left hand digging into her long red locks.

“Vivien,” At Brian’s moan, the little redhead went stiff in his arms, her hands moved back to their protective position on his bare chest.

“Brian, we shouldn’t…” The guitarist shushed his technician, placing a gentle finger on her lips.

“Who says?” He asked, pouting as the redhead pulled further away from him to retrieve the soft down comforter from where they had kicked it to the floor.

“I do.” Haner sighed, but watched hungrily as she stripped down to her undergarments and crawled beneath the comforter to lay her head on his bare chest. The guitarist reached for the remote control and turned on the television as he rubbed her back gently. “Listen, Brian, I really like you, but this is kind of a tough time in my life,”

“I understand, Viv. Relax, honey. How do your tattoos feel?” Having found a program he actually wanted to watch within the first four channels (a very rare occurrence), Haner buried his hand in her red locks.

“They feel… like skin, actually. I didn’t think they would heal that fast.” He had folded his arm behind his head, and Vivien rested her head on his bicep looking for all the world as if she was about to fall asleep. “Welcome to being a vampire, right?”

“Eventually, you’ll learn to be able to control that,” Brian smiled down at her as he traced the tiny ballet slipper tattoo in the soft area between her hip bone and abdominal muscle, and followed along her ribcage to the Irish blessing she had gotten tattooed just beneath her bra line on the left side of her ribcage. “I meant to ask what this means at the tattoo parlor,”

“It’s an old Irish blessing,” The young vampire sounded contented as the black-haired man toyed with her hair. “I dunno, Bri, it’s ancient as fuck. You probably know more about it than I do,”

Haner shrugged, displacing her head from his arm as he pulled her closer, turning to hug her body to his.