"This is Lucinda. She’ll be taking care of your styling needs today."
"Welcome. Please, have a seat."
She nodded at me
without
much of a smile. Which is fine with me, I’m also tired of accepting the
nicety
.
Taking a nap did improve my mood a lot. The
short dream
I had about my grandmother made me realize something.
"Sure."
It’s not always what you do that gets people to act in the way you want. Sometimes it’s what they
think you’ll do
, based on your history and appearance.
Lucinda assessed my hair from my view of her in the mirror.
Thin fingers
ran through the black strands, lifting sections to check the ends for splits and evenness.
"So, what are we doing for you today?"
"I want high twin tails. Secured tightly. Front bangs loose."
A piece of me - of who I truly was - could be
reclaimed
here today. I
hesitated
earlier, when I’d only had a shower, but my mind is made up.
Maybe my history is
unknown
here. Everything I do may be
tainted
by who Helene was.
But seeing the appearance that
reminds
me of me will surely get me to move more... like I want myself to. Instead of just
reacting
like I have to.
Her hands
paused
as I thought they might. Brief enough that someone might not find it
rude
.
Someone untrained in
watching for reactions
might have even missed twitch toward
disgust
.
"That’s... an unusual choice."
"Is it?"
I kept my tone light. With my eyes fixed on hers in the
reflection
of the mirror surface.
"For a woman your age, yes. It’s more commonly seen on... teenagers or even children. Perhaps a sleek updo would better showcase your bone structure?"
"Lucinda, I appreciate the recommendation, but I’m quite set on what I want. Should I ask for someone else?"
My voice dropped just enough to add a sense of
severity
. She shook her head, acquiescing with an expected
minimal resistance
.
Part of me should feel
happy
at that success, but I only felt a
dull buzz
in my head.
"Would you like a trim first? Just to even the ends?"
"That would be fine. Nothing excessive."
Her movements as she gathered the
tools of her trade
were practiced. Scissors with a polished gleam under the bright lights and white combs with fine teeth were pulled from a
vibrant blue liquid
.
The ’disinfectant’ smells strongly of its
antiseptic
properties. But as she worked, I noticed something
unusual
.
Or rather I noticed the
absence
of something... and that the buzz I felt was a lot like the
feeling
from a certain system ’ability’.
> Vrika. A human might emit less of an obvious pheromone scent to my kind than a werewolf, but there should be something. Weak excuse. I will wear who I am. Without reservation. ’Flashers’ and public indecency. Vrika, your world is somehow both very prudish and yet filled with sex in so many deviant forms. Is it all the restraint? Has it warped you? <
My wolf growls,
unhappy
that I’m accusing it of such
like-mindedness
.
"I was told you have a clothing section."
"Yes, of course! Right this way."
Following her back toward the reception area, I felt the
new
way this hair weighed and pulled on my scalp. More whispers followed me through the spa, but I walked with my
head held high
.
The woman who had entered this place...
dirty
,
desperate
, and lost...
Was not the same one preparing to leave.
At the
very least
, I am no longer dirty - and I would call that a
win
.