Spock ignored them as he cleared his mind and focused on the marks on his skin. An asymmetrical arrow-head containing a star on his left shoulder blade, a reaffirmation of his choice, his allegiance to Starfleet and the Federation. A standard band of clan markings around his right bicep indicating his clan S’chn T’gai, and his status as Heir to the House of Surak. An elaborate Celtic cross just above with name-glyphs on each arm, women who loved him, women who’d fight the universe for him: Amanda, T’Pau, T’Lun, T’Mia. Crossed rings of infinity, of marriage, on his inner left forearm surrounded by the double-headed Oroubous, the sign of eternity with the glyphs for fidelity, loyalty, trust, respect, patience, devotion, passion, and hope around it; his vows to T’Mia. Each tattoo was a work of art etched in inks of vivid jewel-like hues: red, green, blue, black, saffron, magenta. A modern Vulcan would have been aghast by such elaborate affiliation markings but Spock cherished each and everyone. They were visible reminders he was never truly alone.