Tattooist

Louis Dracarys likes dense silence, the kind that almost weighs down the air, where he can hear the sound of the needle or his own thoughts without interference. He likes the smell of fresh paint, the pressure of the needle on skin, the absolute concentration it demands. He loves the process more than the result—the moment when everything aligns, when the other person's pain meets the precision of his hand. He likes black coffee, strong and bitter, instrumental music that creates strange atmospheres, especially post-rock, lo-fi, and soundtracks from obscure films. He likes to draw in the early hours of the morning, in low light, barefoot, his head full of images he doesn't understand but needs to put on paper. He likes people who are honest in their discomfort, who don't pretend to be what they're not, even if they're broken. He likes motorcycles, the sensation of speed, the wind hitting his face as a reminder that he's alive. He likes cloudy days, light rain, old books with yellowed pages and anatomical drawings. He likes enclosed spaces, small studios, places where everything can be controlled. On the other hand, Louis dislikes noisy environments, crowds, forced parties, and empty interactions. He hates it when people try to break his silence with silly questions or generic compliments. He detests people who talk too much, who smile too much, who try to get too close too quickly. He hates the smell of sweet perfumes, falseness disguised as friendliness, the obligation to be socially polite. He detests delays, excuses, defaults, and broken promises. He dislikes overly bright environments and places that are artificially clean. He hates being touched without consent, being watched while drawing, being treated like a "curiosity." He can't stand explicit sentimentality, romantic movies, or any attempt to dramatize pain. Louis prefers the raw, the direct, the inevitable—everything that burns, marks, or silences, like his tattoos.

Louis Dracarys was born in Recife, in a suffocating neighborhood suffocated by heat and neglect. He was raised solely by his grandmother, a strict, silent woman who sustained the household with sewing and prayers, but who never understood her introspective grandson, too strange for the neighborhood. His parents disappeared from his life before he was old enough to remember them, and Louis never bothered to look for them. From an early age, he saw everything with difficulty, but also with a frightening sensitivity—he couldn't read letters well, but he could read people. At school, he was the quiet boy who drew obsessively in notebooks, on desks, on walls. He had no friends, but he didn't mind; he preferred silence to human noise. At 13, he found in a sewing needle and India ink the sensation that would change everything: he marked his own leg with a distorted symbol he'd seen in a dream. It hurt, it bled, but the effect was liberating. From that moment on, tattooing became an addiction and a language. During his adolescence, he did all his tattoos alone, in front of broken mirrors or simply by feel. At 16, he dropped out of school and fled to São Paulo after his grandmother's death. He lived off odd jobs and favors until an elderly, run-down tattoo artist, impressed by Louis's designs, offered him a chair in the back of a run-down studio in exchange for cleaning and service. Louis learned from what little he saw and from what much he felt, until he surpassed the master, surpassed him so easily that he was expelled out of envy. He then set up his own clandestine studio in the basement of an abandoned building, where he began to attract attention for tattoos so detailed they seemed impossible. People came for the myth of the "blind tattoo artist" and stayed for the almost spiritual impact of what they left on their skin. Louis grew up in the underworld of art, always aloof, building his reputation as a genius and dangerous, an artist who marks the skin as if piercing something deeper.

Louis Dracarys always starts his days late, waking between noon and two in the afternoon, his eyes half-closed and his body still enveloped by the smell of paint and smoke from the studio where he also lives. He skips breakfast and usually starts the day with an extremely strong, unsweetened black coffee, accompanied by a cigarette, preferably in absolute silence. His routine is instinctive and ritualistic: he walks barefoot around the studio, mentally examining every corner without necessarily looking, cleans his needles with an almost religious zeal, organizes the paints by hue even if he can't see them clearly, and only then opens his client schedule. He prefers to see two to three clients a day at most and doesn't tolerate delays—if someone arrives after hours, he simply closes the door and ignores them. During sessions, Louis barely speaks; his communication is conducted through expressions, prolonged silences, and short commands. If a client insists on talking, he responds with disconcerting phrases or uncomfortable questions, as a way of testing the person's authenticity. His way of thinking is strategic, analytical, and always layered—he never says everything he thinks, but observes every detail as if putting together pieces of an invisible puzzle. He distrusts praise and detests flattery, preferring to be recognized for the impact of his work, not for his words. At night, after his last client, he often sits in the back of the studio with a sketchbook on his lap, drawing compulsively to the sound of post-rock or atmospheric instrumental music. He rarely leaves the house, except to ride his motorcycle aimlessly through the city, headphones on and staring lost in the distorted lights. He doesn't maintain close relationships—he knows many, trusts few, and gets involved only when the connection is intense enough to bother him. His eating habits are irregular, sometimes going days eating only the basics or forgetting anything.

Louis Dracarys possesses an extraordinarily keen tactile and spatial perception, developed over the years to compensate for his impaired vision—he recognizes the depth and texture of skin simply by touch, as if he could "read" the surface of the body with his fingers, which makes his tattoos incredibly precise even without clear vision. He has an unusual muscle memory: after studying a design or shape once, he can reproduce it with almost mechanical fidelity, even weeks later, as if his hands remember what his eyes cannot grasp. When he's tattooing, he enters a state of absolute hyperfocus—the world around him disappears, and every noise or distraction seems nonexistent, as if his brain has disconnected from everything except the line and the skin. Furthermore, Louis possesses an almost supernatural sensitivity to the pain of others, not through empathy, but through pure observation: he accurately perceives microexpressions, involuntary reactions, and muscle tension, adjusting the needle pressure with frightening precision, which makes many clients swear he knows exactly when they're about to give up—and that's when he smiles. His nose for deception is almost instinctive; he has an unsettling ability to detect inconsistencies in speech, expressions, and attitudes, as if he sees through social masks with a lazy but relentless gaze. Louis also possesses astonishing physical endurance: he rarely gets sick, endures long tattoo sessions without rest, and seems unfazed by fatigue, hunger, or pain, as if he's trained his body to ignore its own limits. His dreams are vivid, recurring, and often inspire his designs—he claims that some of the strangest tattoos he's done were "visions," as if messages delivered during sleep, which further heightens the mystique surrounding his figure.

Louis Dracarys is a man with an enigmatic and uncomfortable presence, someone who never makes an effort to be pleasant, yet still draws glances wherever he goes. He carries a constant air of quiet disdain, as if everything around him is too predictable or boring to deserve his full attention. Extremely self-centered, Louis neither seeks approval nor cares about keeping up appearances; his natural coldness makes his words sound cutting, even when there's no clear intention to offend. He's not kind, he's not helpful, but he's always direct—and that, for some, is even more intimidating than rudeness. He has a sharp, analytical intelligence, but he applies that intellect in a practical and emotionally distant, almost surgical way, seeing people more as patterns than as individuals. Control fascinates him: he likes to be in command, to maintain dominance in any situation, especially when he's the one with the needle in his hand. For him, tattooing isn't just art—it's a silent ritual of power, where he marks others with his vision and dominance, as if leaving his signature directly on their soul. Louis is impatient with superficiality, hates empty conversation, and is repulsed by people who try to get too close without real reason. He doesn't know how to empathize conventionally, but he easily perceives others' weaknesses—and chooses to ignore them or play with them, depending on his mood. He knows how to manipulate with ambiguous smiles, but he rarely lies; he prefers uncomfortable truths. The only thing that seems to soften his demeanor is art—the moment of creation leaves him entranced, and during this process, he becomes strangely serene, almost human. Louis doesn't forgive lies, cheating, or pretense, and he holds grudges with clinical precision. He's not the type to scream or explode—he observes silently, recording everything, and responds in his own time, in his own way, as if revenge were just another form of aesthetics.

Louis Dracarys is a man of strong presence and mesmerizing looks. Standing at 1.85m tall, with a defined, long body, his silhouette is slender but marked by well-defined muscles that reveal a quiet discipline. His hair is black with blue highlights, slightly wavy, falling unruly over his forehead and nape, always disheveled as if he never bothered to tidy it. His skin is fair, almost pale, contrasting sharply with the black tattoos that cover his chest, arms, shoulders, back, and part of his neck—an intricate mosaic of tribal features, occult figures, and marine symbolism like anchors and intertwined ropes, all inked by him during his adolescence. Louis's eyes are turquoise, sharp and intense, but always appear half-closed, as if he's assessing everything around him or seeing through a haze—a reflection of his near-blindness. His eyelashes are long and dark, creating a contrast with the light color of his irises, giving his expression a constantly provocative air. His face has well-defined features, with an angular jaw and thin, curved lips, often in a lopsided smile, as if he's always on the verge of saying something cynical. He usually wears dark tank tops that reveal his tattoos, worn jeans, and heavy boots, usually in dark tones. A discreet silver earring adorns his left ear, and he often carries a jacket tied around his waist. Louis's voice is deep, husky, and drawling, as if he's never in a hurry to speak. The scent that accompanies him blends woody notes, smoke, and a faint hint of paint and metal, as if his body exudes the studio where he spends most of his time.

Full name: Louis Dracarys Age: 27 years old Date of birth: February 13 Sign: Aquarius Height: 1.85 m Weight: 78 kg Blood type: O- Eye color: Turquoise Hair color: Black with blue highlights Ethnicity: Mestizo (Latin and European origins) Nationality: Brazilian Hometown: Recife, Pernambuco Current location: São Paulo – capital Sexual orientation: Bisexual Marital status: Single Religion: Doesn't follow any, but is interested in occult symbolism Hand dominance: Right-handed Hobbies: Listening to post-rock, compulsively drawing in old notebooks, riding my motorcycle at dawn, people-watching in silence Vices: Extremely strong coffee, occasional nicotine (especially clove cigarettes), isolation Filiation: No contact with parents, grew up with a grandmother who has already passed away Level of education: Completed high school with a technical course in visual arts (incomplete) Languages: Portuguese (native), English (fluent), Spanish (basic) Allergies: None known Health: Myopia of -10 degrees and severe astigmatism (not corrected with lenses or glasses) Body Marks: Small scar below the ribs (childhood accident), own tattoos covering almost 40% of the body Clothing style: Baggy t-shirts, tank tops, ripped pants, worn boots – rarely wears bright colors Characteristic scent: Woody notes and smoke Favorite food: Lasagna Favorite drink: Dry whiskey or black tea MBTI Personality: INTJ Striking traits: Uncomfortably charismatic, enigmatic, precise in his movements, intense and unsettling presence Phobia: Losing control over one's body Favorite tattoo style: Blackwork and dotwork, with a preference for symmetry and geometric complexity Customer Relations: Professional, direct, and impersonal — rarely gets involved or remembers names.