Lucy Serrano

[Lucy Serrano]

Lucy Ellis Serrano
FACE CLAIM: Lights Poxleitner
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AGE: Twenty-Six
GENDER: Female
ORIENTATION: Unsure
POSITION: Local - Famous Artist

POWER: Melanokinesis: Lucy can bring her drawings to life wherever she creates them. She can manipulate pigments on a page, walls or even on skin to allow it to move slowly across the canvas. Simply put, if it’s based with pigments - such as pen ink or paint for example - it's able to be manipulated. The largest way she uses this ability is during the tattooing process, where she can tweak the needle's placement of ink in order to produce perfect imagery.

LIMITATIONS:
Colours and shapes can be changed without the use of direct contact, though it's always easier and much less strenuous if a physical connection is involved. Direct contact is needed with older substances. As such, the ‘fresher’ the ink, the easier it is to manipulate. Something recently applied to the skin, or any kind of surface is lively enough not to have dried or settled, and so it remains as a skimming, workable layer. A secondary coat of paint renders the first untouchable. Completely altering an aged tattoo is impossible as it's too set in place to move drastically; the most that can be done is to shift the 'bleeding' ink back into its original position.

SIDE-EFFECTS:
She cannot keep the same drawings on skin for an extended period of time otherwise she runs the risk of developing ink poisoning due to the likely nature of the substance used - the ink from a pen, for example, isn't sterile like the application of tattoo ink is set up to be. Further side effects from this ability include headaches from the overt concentration used, and muscle pains if she uses the ability on herself. Since manifesting at sixteen, a majority of her own tattoos have been in a state of near-constant, natural manipulation. Tied directly to her, the inhabitants on her skin seem to carry personality traits from the manipulator herself; they can often give away an emotional discourse by the nature of their own movements, and they are practically uncontrollable.

6:17am.
Home.
Kalispell, Montana.

It was far too early. There were so few benefits for getting up so early in the morning. But it was a weekday, and she’d kept company the night before. The kind of company that was incredibly strict about needing to get to work on the days when she actually went.

Lucy stirred; feet flexed, legs stretched, blackened hair still sprawled the prior pillow and a hand wrapped itself even tighter around a form before she dared let it slip out of reach.

“Go back to sleep.” Soft. Gentle and generous despite the way she had stirred. Lucy groaned at the easy response, eyebrows twitched downwards, dark eyes refusing to open. There were few things that could get her to form words when her mind was so blank; “I’ll make you coffee.”

A small hitch in her shoulders; the breath in the form of a quiet laugh, “You better.”

11:59am.
Four hour tattoo appointment.
Booked two months ago.

Hard pressing ink into anyone's skin is a painful business. More so when it’s a way of partial-life. But Lucy Serrano couldn’t imagine doing anything else with her days in Kalispell. A quick session with a first-timer’s ribs. Lucy spent her time listening to idle talk about a life personally deemed far more extravagant than her own. It was this woman’s first time getting inked, but her family tree had the wealth to pay for the application.

“Trust me. It’s a good call.” Lucy offered, dragging the excess ink away with a swipe of paper towel to the applied skin. Finally, she looked up, “It’s beautiful.”

Bright eyes stared back at her quickly; “You really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’ve been so booked out - I’ve been waiting like, eight weeks to get this done.” She admitted, her tone of voice sounding clearly challenged. A little strained but incredibly happy; “I’ve changed my mind so many times I can’t even handle it.”

“Well, if you change your mind in another eight…” Lucy offered, raising her eyebrows once with a defined, charmingly smug grin, “You know where to find me.”

1:25pm.
An English classroom.
Bellefonte Academy.

“You should tune in.” Lucy shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, “Just about the time you’re leaving here, I’d say.”

“I don’t listen to the radio when I’m driving.”

How would she know that? She barely drove herself around. When they were together in a car, neither of them did. Neither of them had to; Lucy had a driver in the city for that, “Well, you should. Just this once.”

3:27pm.
Interview #1.
Live radio broadcast.

This afternoon we'll be driving you home with a special guest. Someone we've been dying to get a hold of and finally - finally - the team at KC-FM managed. She is in the building. She's mic'd up and ready to go. Local, big time, international tattoo and print artist Lucy Serrano, are you ready to go?

Very ready.

We've got a lot of questions. Some written in from our online forums, and if you're up for it we might take some callers, too.

I'm up for anything.

She is up for anything. Which is good, y'know, cause there's nothing editable about live radio. Sooo let's jump into it. You're based in Kalispell.

I am, yeah.

We gotta know what drew you back into the city last year!

Y'know every time anyone ever asks me, they always think I'm lying.

Because you moved away years ago, right?

Right. New York for a little while, then overseas when I had to. But the city’s growing, and I always liked it here; it finally fits.

So you originally moved here, at…

Sixteen, originally. [Pause] Yup, I was sixteen when I got here. Had a few bad years in high school - I graduated late - but I still managed. I got the job at the first tattoo place that gave me decent chance. A few years later some loaded people catch sight of a few pieces, everything gets bigger, and here we are.

But here - Kalispell - is where it all started.

[Laughs] Yeah, that's the jumping off point.

What was high school like for Lucy Serrano?

Never boring. Let's just say there were a lot of people who were a lot better behaved, and their lives were a bit like hell back in the day.

A trouble maker, you might say?

You might say, yeah!

Any great little stories you can share?

[Pause] With a decent size script, and a pretty good pen, you can fit the word **** on the average classroom walls over four-hundred times.

Really?

Just imagine how the hallways ended up.

Crazy! So. The power. Obviously. The ink thing. That's what got you here - over from Australia and into the Bellefonte Academy in the first place - and that's what gives you the edge in the businesses you’re thriving in.

That's what people say. When it comes to tattoos, they come in from all over the country looking for perfection; especially now they know the trick behind it. They know they're paying for the best possible work. They know they're paying for someone who literally can’t fail them. I might’ve left to do shows and galleries in other city’s and countries, but it doesn’t feel right setting up a permanent tattoo shop anywhere else.

So you're staying Kalispell out of nostalgia?

Nostalgia doesn't interest me. It doesn't really matter that I went to high school here, or that for years it was the only other place I knew. At a certain point, you just go where you know. Your best work is where you’re more comfortable. I’m glad the city’s caught up, but even if it hadn’t, I’d still have that space no matter how big my name gets.

It's a big name, though.

It is, yeah.

Big enough to take the cover in this coming month's issue of Skin Deep magazine.

Oh, you heard about that?

The six page spread should be a pretty good read.

[Laughs] I think so, too.

So let’s get to the center of all your controversy.

I love talking about the controversy.

You've always been pretty quiet about your stance on it all. We got a question online from a Jeffrey Bates from right in the city itself. He's asking; Do you ever get ridiculed for basing a career of a power?

Of course, but I think that's to be expected. I think if people weren't talking about it, I wouldn't be interesting enough. I mightn't be changing lives in the political sense, but I've got enough of a thing going that people are gonna take notice. Clearly, they have.

So it's almost a good thing; the publicity, I think.

They say all publicity is good publicity. Me personally, I don't believe it. It's a narrow minded thought, and we're in an age where we're better than that, y'know?

Definitely, definitely. Ooh, the dash is lighting up; would you take a caller?

Why not?

Caller, you're on the air.

Yeah, hi, been following the stuff you do for awhile and... I have a question.

Shoot.

Don't hold it back.

So like, do you think you'd be doing this if you couldn't do what you do?

Definitely. I mean like, it's not as easy as it probably sounds. There's no tattooing a circle and moving the ink underneath the skin. The application is all the same business, it's just got that constant reassurance. I don't rely on it like I probably could, and I think that's the thing that sets the work apart.

That's where it all started.

But you wouldn't be this big if you didn't do what you can do.

Mmm, I can't really say either way. The career started way before the world knew what some people were capable of.

I just figured someone who owes everything to the advantage they've been given would be a little more grateful for that.

Okay, what're you really asking?

Just wondering when you're going to take a stance with the rest of the supremacists-

Ohhhhkay, we are not about that kind of drama on this show.

But we are about the controversy.

Don't be afraid to step up and speak out!

Time to terminate this call.

No, let's make this clear.

...Okay.

Hey, thanks for taking the time to call up. Appreciate the fact that you felt the need to push your agenda here today, so let me give it back to you. I don't owe any group anything for what my life is. I don't stand with or against anyone. I don't care. All I care about is the art. You wanna talk about that? We can talk for bloody days about that. But I'm not that crazy on talking up your fight, mate. I'm talking business today, not politics.

[Pause] Time for a break?

You absolutely read my mind.

6:46pm.
Interview #2. Six page spread.
Set to print in December’s magazine.

She’d been there for a while now, but she never ran out of things to say.

We’ve covered a lot of topics so far. But there’s one thing you haven’t talked about yet.

“Oh?” Lucy offered, feigning surprise.

What about the woman?

Ever cool and ever calm, the Australian tilted her head up a touch. She couldn’t look surprised by the inevitable question if she tried. “What woman?”

The Kalispell native you’ve been seen with more and more.

“She isn’t exactly a total native – have you heard her talk?”

Well... No. And the few times you’ve been asked about her, you’re incredibly quiet about it.

“That’s because usually these interviews are about…” Her eyes narrowed a little, sparked by an ounce of confusion, “Me.”

What’s to be secretive about?

And she laughed. She had to laugh; lightly, though it carried purpose. She was hardly the type to stall, and this was no exception. “Who’s being secretive?” Lucy asked in return, her tone finally favouring surprise.

You’ve been asked about this before, I’m sure, and with nothing in print I’d guess you’re relatively silent.

“Maybe people just aren’t asking the right questions.”

What are the right questions?

“Ah,” Instinctively, she leaned forward in her seat and lowered her head. For a moment, her gaze caught the floor, and when she looked up she couldn’t help the amused smirk she wore; “I’m not here to do your job for you.”

What about the firsthand claim that there’s been a notable difference in the usual style of your work since this started?

“I’m…” A pause. A contemplative expression, “Offended.”

Offended?

“That anyone would assume there’s a usual style to any of it.” She explained, pressing her hands together. She intertwined her fingers, rolling her shoulders back once. The amused expression she’d just been wearing was practically gone. “If art exists to stick to a medium, I think I’ve spent over half a decade in the wrong business.” A little irritation sparked in her tone, but she did her best to keep it minor.

Care to elaborate?

At first, she didn’t answer. The ink manipulator simply sighed as she leaned back in the chair again. When it came to this sort of thing - and this happened often enough - she chose to combat it in the most professionally profound way.

“Confining yourself to an image, or a select way of doing things is hardly what a life of creativity is about.” She started, pursing her lips on instinct within the break, “A signature statement and look is a signature, but when is your signature ever exact? Doesn’t it always evolve the way you do?” She raised her eyebrows once, as if waiting for an answer. But it never came, and so she couldn’t help but continue, “If someone wants something I’ve done before, they can argue with the owner while I move forward.”

So - correct me if I’m wrong, here - but you’re all-but admitting that this person is influencing your work.

“Change influences my work,” Lucy adamantly corrected, unfurling her hands and running her fingers through her hair, “The person I’m with influences where I spend my time when I’m not.”

You were spotted in the airport together a few weeks ago. Where were you going?

“Paris.”

I know.

There, Lucy couldn’t help but grin. At least she resisted the urge to laugh again. “I know you know.”

It wasn’t work related?

“Not completely. There was a gallery showing in the latter part of the visit.”

So why did you go earlier?

“Because I can.” And she laughed, running her hands together before separating them. She chose to run her fingers along the line of her jaw idly, “Because I wanted to.” Lucy added deftly, her leg bouncing on apparent instinct as she rested her ankle to her knee. Her grin boiled into a smile, instead. “And because she’s never been.”

You didn’t really answer the original question.

“You stopped asking, didn’t you?” The Australian asked, tilting her head to one side.

Who is she?

“No, see - That, I already told you.” Lucy replied, raising a hand to her hair again, “She’s the person I’m with.”

9:12pm.
Home.
Alone.

Keys to the bowl. Eyes to the fridge. Hand to the glass on the counter. The other to the decanter. Something dark poured to the glass; half an inch, for now.

Harsher liquor caught her lips as she took the drink inward completely, her tongue running the length of her lower lip seconds later to catch whatever might have been left. Her phone rang; an international number.

“Dad, hey.” Surprise etched her tone; “How did you hear- No, it’s totally fine. Just some idiot calling up.”

“I dunno, it’s no different than last time. People have opinions; they’re always gonna throw them at you.”

“Well, you’re all the way there in Oz, so I dunno how you plan on doing that.”

She poured herself another drink then, a little more as fingers pressed the glass and she took hold of it. Slow steps dragged her to a seat, “Late shift at the bar? Still, dad, you need to sleep. You don’t have to check on me, I’m fine.”

“Everything here is okay, too. I told you that last week.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m going away again.” Slow sips to the harsh liquid in the deep glass; “If you let me know when you’re gonna visit.”

“I know it’s hard. Tell both my sisters I miss them, okay?”

“I know I don’t call enough. I knew you’d say that.” Faster paced. How was it that she needed to leave her seat already?

Knocks at the door. A saviour. Something to force her back to her seat as she listened - in total silence - to her own father’s ramblings. She should visit home more. She should be wary of putting herself in the light so bright. She should be worried about her own future. That she might burn out.

“Hmm..?”

The door pulled open. There before her stood a familiar face. Familiar lips dragged open to speak, but she quickly realised the phone was pressed to her ear.

“Sorry, what?”

Raised eyebrows of the familiar woman who kept her bed warm the night before caught her attention.

“No, no, I’m listening. Keep going.”

A step to the side on her own behalf. She wasn’t going to deny the company again if Penelope Blaise so wished to give it.



SAMPLE: Settling into a place that she occupied alone for so long was suddenly so difficult. Cool walls left cold connotations. Keys hit the bowl without a lingering clang because there was only one set, and there had only ever been one set. Comfort once settled in the idea that she could be alone; that she might avoid the busier notions of New York for hours before the next day forced her back into it.

Slow steps carried her into the kitchen, fingertips drumming the surface lightly. She spared a glance at the empty counter top before she reached to open the fridge. Relatively empty. Were it not for the alcoholic substances that filtered the bare shelves, it would have been completely. She exhaled an almost frustrated sigh at the fact, throwing the door closed and reeling back up without a second thought to its contents. At least, she hoped not to care.

Without the light of it, she had to flick a switch. To illuminate the room which carried little to no interest for her. She glanced around, her attention failing to catch on a single surface. Every little bit that held importance was empty now.

Weeks of working in Paris had kept her busy, but now she was back; almost a day; early at that. And all she could think of was picking up the phone.

But she didn't. Not as she poured dark liquid into a glass as a thought to settle her nerves. Not as she wandered through the familiar notions of her own home for a place to sit. Not even as she leaned back in silence and stared at the grey-scale walls before her. Around her.

It couldn't hurt, could it? What was there to lose by making the first move? The first move was her forte. It was her strength. With a phone in one hand and a glass in the other, Lucy was very quick to down the contents of the latter in a single shot. Then she twisted her mouth; not to the bitter taste, but the fact that she'd need to get up already in order to get more. But before then, she pressed the call button and held the device to her ear.

"Hey." Lucy offered, smooth as the prior contents of her glass with that usual touch of amusement.

USERNAME: Eddie

AGE GROUP: Twenty-Four

EXPERIENCE: Over a tenner

WHERE DID YOU FIND US? In the beginning, there was BA. There was Mel, and there was me.

[Mel *]

You know what to do!