Bill's.

( he'd gotten it after he came back from europe and they made peace. accepting that they were better friends than lovers. he doesn't regret their divorce, has tried not to dwell on the what-ifs that could have plagued them. he sat down with her and discussed the tattoo, what it meant to him. they were almost strangers then, he knows she could have taken it as a trap. something manipulative, to clip her wings. but she'd understood. it's why they're still so close. )

Then my grandmother's, grandfather's. Nieces and nephews all happened around the same time. The tattoo for my nation was last.

( it's why the red is still so vivid and bright. it was done to celebrate becoming passably fluent — not perfectly, but. it felt like coming full circle, somehow. the lakota way has always been that you can count yourself among their people if you speak the language. it has less to do with birthright and race and more about respect of culture and history. but he wasn't really ready to claim it before. now, he's proud. )