It was hard not to marvel at how well the man had managed the whole ordeal, the woman standing there gazing back at him with her hand resting on the knob of the door. She knew she could not outstay her welcome and yet... she was concerned for his wellbeing, despite his insistence that he was fine earlier and his repeated notion that he did not want her around. It was hard-wired in her brain for survival that he needed to survive to save them all. But she would not push it any further and a deal was a deal.

“I will not go back on my word, you can be sure of that. Thank you, for letting me help,” she offered, starting to turn the knob as he repeated that he did not want to be bothered. It was a fair request, as she expected he must be exhausted and she could not count the number of times she had wished for even one day to herself. Just to get her breath back and find her bearings, though that was not a privilege she had in a while... until now.

“I will think on it. I have a lot to ponder on and I’m not sure what I will do next. As for people... that is something I can never avoid and it was not always this way. But I have my reasons for what I do, even if their foundations are weak.” He brought up her insecurities and her own questions that had been rolling through her mind, but the woman was set on her mission, one way or the other. She just had to figure it out more and learn to take her steps back into living. “I hope your rest is good,” she offered in an awkward goodbye before finally slipping out.

The moment she closed the door behind her, the woman glanced down the hall before sucking in a breath, starting towards the restaurant area set up for the guests. It was not an easy choice, but she was hungry and knew she would never acclimate to life again if she didn’t take the first steps forward. Her early trip into the market had been draining, but she had slightly higher hopes for this small adventure, considering it was in the same building and she wasn’t that far from the safety of her room.

Cautiously she sat down at a small table to the side, picking up the small order menu that listed all the options. But her hazel gaze could not focus, constantly darting up at the slightest shadow or even twitch of movement anywhere near her. Zephyra was hyper-aware of her surroundings, almost immediately taking in where every man was sitting, where his focus was... she couldn’t help it now. She had spent so much time having to be this way for her own safety and to try and make her life as tolerable as possible. But it followed her out of her hell, and created a new kind of one.

Somehow she managed to order something cheap and simple and stay long enough to receive it, but the moment the platter was in her hands, she left, finding security in her room. It was quiet, and Zeph liked that, eating her own meal that she had ordered with her own two hands at her own leisure for the first time in almost a year. And she did truly enjoy it, only leaving the room to return the plate and get something to drink, that trip taking less than five minutes with minimal interaction.

The next few days Zephyra kept to her word and did not bother Solomon. At least, not by trying to interact. She did, however, make sure there were some supplies left out his door the second day, the one where she was brave enough to attempt the real world again. It left her exhausted and shaky, sinking into one of the chairs and covering herself in a blanket. She had managed to snag a cheap book, though she hadn’t looked at the title, too frazzled to take the time while in the market.

It turned out to be a simple guidebook about farming on the isles, but it was an area of focus for her, meaning she read it anyway. She spent the rest of that day and the next between reading and tentatively thinking about her plans. However, she ran into the problem that it was hard to plan when you couldn’t manage to leave an inn for more than ten minutes without suffering from overloads and extreme fear of people. So she stuck in her room, went out for only brief moments to get food, and kept to her word not to bother Solomon.

Once Zephyra left, Solomon went to sleep. He was forced to sprawl out on his stomach rather than the usual ball he curled himself in. And he slept for a long time. Long enough that when he awoke, it was midafternoon the next day. His body was stiff and sore, but he felt better. He was still dehydrated and malnourished, which resulted in a growling stomach and insides that generally ached in protest. Despite that, it was still better than a cell. Now he had a bed, access to basic necessities, and was no longer a subject for torture. It was all better than it had been a day ago, right?

The only meal he would eat for the next few days was the cold soup she had left at his door, but besides that, he spent a lot of time thinking and sleeping. He even returned to meditating, which was something he hadn’t taken the time for in ages, but he didn’t know what to do. Perhaps he should have sought guidance from the Heavens, he had heard stories of the all-knowing power they held, but what deity would give him the time of day? He was a monster and that was all he would ever amount to. There would never be a higher power stupid enough to offer guidance to a man with a soul as dark as his.

So he just stewed. He rolled out of bed to bathe, but that was it. He thought and thought and thought. He would stare at the window and stare at his bejeweled blades, looking anywhere for answers. There were none to be found. Solomon was on his own and could rely on no one else to make his decisions. The man no longer had anyone to rely on, not that he’d relied on people much in the past. It was just the idea that he no longer had any sort of buffer or crutch, nothing to fall back on, that made him uneasy. Solomon’s life had always been well thought out. There had never been a single thing out of place when it came to his life as former royalty, but now he had none of that.

His life had quickly turned into chaos and there was no sign of it ending any time soon. So three days were spent pondering and planning, though nothing came out of it. Solomon could find no solution, no way to turn his existence back into something that resembled living. He was a fugitive wanted in every nation on the continent. Hated by all and loved by none. Where did one go after that? It was the painful truth when he had said he had nothing. Yet, he didn’t wish to go back to the empire, nor did he wish to return to the life of ignorance that he had once lived.

He was free and not all at the same time and he needed to find a way to deal with the limbo where he lived. Solomon was strong, but it was hard. So the sun set one night, the man pulled a shirt over his now rough bandaging and fled his room, nearly tripping over the offerings Zephyra had left. He hadn’t even known she was leaving things… For a moment, his eyes glanced over the little pile, but he only shut his door and moved on, needing a reprieve. The man needed to find some peace. He needed a distraction from the shambles his life was left in.

Solomon wandered around the market, thanking the darkness of night for keeping him rather concealed. It was slow, but the market was beginning to empty and the city began to sleep, but he wasn’t tired. He was antsy and stressed without any true purpose. Fingers toyed with the necklace he wore, the man fidgeting as he didn’t know what to do. That seemed to be the theme for Solomon lately. He might have spent hours wandering around in the dark, looking worse for wear with his teetering steps, but it was better than being alone with the thoughts in his head.

It was only when he traveled back in the direction of the inn that he found a shred of direction. His gaze landed on the stables and his curiosity got the better of him. Solomon wanted to see his horse. His Ambrose. He entered the dark stables and at first, he saw nothing, but as soon as he caught sight of the steeds dark head he almost tripped over himself to get to him. It was his only piece of home, this horse. He called out softly to the creature, fingers reaching out to bury into his dark mane. At least something hadn’t changed. At least he had this one thing left that he could love.

The stall was where Solomon stayed, as it offered him a little bit of safe haven. Ambrose was familiar, with his massive, thick body and dark hair. It was those hours where he was allowed to forget and tell himself that things were okay and normal. That he wasn’t tortured or covered in bandages. That there would still be a home for him to go back to one day. That he wasn’t alone… Solomon stayed in the stall that night and never returned to his room, as the time where he fell asleep against his resting horse were the most relaxing hours he had spent in weeks.

Fingers flipped slowly through the book before quietly closing it and placing it carefully on the table next to the chair. Standing, she took a deep breath, eyes darting towards her door. She planned on going out this morning to buy some cheap new clothes. She had some simple clothes that she was happy with, but she wanted to fit in more than she currently did. It was less necessity and more for her own feeling of security, knowing she would feel better if she at least felt as though she were blending in.

Zephyra started for the door before pausing by her mirror, glancing at her reflection. She had spent hours the night before working with her hair. Hours. It only looked slightly better, bobbing near her shoulders and painfully obvious that she had cut it herself. At the time, it had been necessary as she was disguising herself as a man, her badly cut hair hidden under a hat, but here it wasn’t the same.

Not that she could say she regretted cutting it. Yes, it was true she did not like how it looked, but she could no longer stand the long strands that pooled over her shoulders and down her back, the favorite pastime for men to run their fingers through and toy with. The hair she could spend far too much time on putting up in a way that could get her the most favor... the hair she rather hated after all the abuse it had been through. And at least now the ratchet cut was... somewhat satisfactory, though that was a stretch.

With her courage in tow, the woman finally took the first steps outside her room to make her way down the hall and into the street. The goal was to be quick and quiet about the whole thing as possible, the woman having left somewhat early so the streets were less full, but not so empty that it left her too exposed. It was a painful balance she needed to feel any semblance of safety, and one that was realistically impossible to meet. But it did not stop her, moving quickly down the street and shying from any men who happened to be within eyesight. She was jumpy, keeping her head down as she made her way to the stall that sold clothes, pausing outside and doing a quick glance around.

She already knew what she wanted, having seen it the other day on her trip to grab supplies for Solomon, which she had noticed still sat in front of his door. Quietly she picked up the few clothes she wanted, which came to a dress, two shirts, and a skirt. She was swift to pay, placing the money down on the counter before hurrying off back towards the inn, done with her adventures for the day. It wasn’t even noon and she planned to spend the rest of her day in her room, quietly reading through the book again and making another attempt at trying to figure out what she should do.

As she neared the building, her gaze darted to the stables and she paused. Zeph hadn’t seen the monster horse since she had arrived, too busy or frightened by the time she got anywhere near. She felt bad for Ambrose, sure the equine had no idea what was going on or why he had been neglected. With enough energy for it, she quickly made her way over, moving inside as she scanned the stalls in hopes of glimpsing the beast. She did not see him, instead clicking her tongue softly as she began to peer inside the different areas before finding him.

Except the horse was not alone, Solomon laying against the animal’s side as she looked inside. Standing with some uncertainty, Zeph did not want to disturb the man who seemed to actually be resting, though Ambrose offered a soft snort, stretching out his neck in response to her presence, though did not move to get up.

Solomon shifted as the horse moved and gave a snort, disturbed from the slumber he had been in. He yawned and stretched himself out, which proved to be a mistake as it put strain on his back. Instinctively, he gave the softest of whimpers, brow furrowing in displeasure. For a moment he settled again, not exactly wanting to get up. It seemed his companion sensed him stirring, as not five seconds went by before warm air pelted his face from the stallions exhale. He turned his head away, but of course, he was followed and his face was nudged repeatedly.

Solomon gave a low hum and finally cracked his eyes open, reaching up to stroke Ambrose’s dark face. “Hey…” He spoke to him softly, the man looking and sounding completely content in those moments. It was one of his more vulnerable moments, where he was half-asleep and without his usual cold looks, instead painting someone warmer and gentle, the opposite of who he always was. He gently pushed the horse's hair from his face, murmuring unintelligible sentences with half-lidded eyes. He was at ease for the first time in what felt like forever.

After a moment his horse’s attention shifted away, which gave the man a moment to wake up. Solomon ran a hand over his face and patted the horse's neck with an additional yawn. Then he began to scratch at his bandages, as he found the combination of ratchet dressings and healing wounds to be itchy. And that was where some semblance of himself started to return, as his usual hard look returned the more conscious he grew, eyes sharpening as the moment fled. He needed to return to the inn soon, though it wasn’t like there was anything for him to do there.

That was when he noticed Zephyra. He blinked for a moment and recognized her, though he wasn’t exactly overjoyed. His eyes narrowed, but Solomon wasn’t as hostile as he had been before. “I did say only three days.” He remarked with a shrug, getting to his feet. The stallion followed suit, after spending much more time on the ground than any horse usually did for the sake of his human. Which made Ambrose appear all the more bigger, as he quickly dwarfed the two people as he meandered over to great Zephyra, much friendlier than the man who owned him.

“The market is nice,” He nodded towards the items she carried, assuming that was where she had visited. There wasn’t much to say or do, given as the two knew nothing about each other but things that were awful, but at least Solomon wasn’t acting as ugly as he had been. How long this phase of his would last was unknown. “You should stop leaving things outside of my door. I can purchase my own necessities and am capable of my own care. Don’t waste your money on me when we both know it’s limited.” It was true, as they had no way of gaining income. What money they had for themselves was it.

Solomon walked over to the stall door to exit, noticing again that her hair had been cropped. Typically, a haircut wasn’t something he wouldn’t have noticed, but it had been a drastic change and well… she had done it badly. It somewhat reminded him of Ryia’s, except it was much less of a jungle than his younger sisters.He cocked a brow but said nothing, giving his horse a farewell nose rub and exiting the stall. He wasn’t keen on returning to the inn, but what choice did he have? There wasn’t anything for him to do… and the more he frequented the market the more likely people were to recognize him.

Solomon just wasn’t sure and he wasn’t ready to be the local’s gossip just yet. He glanced back at her when he reached the entrance. Perhaps it was a combination of his longing for his sister and his perpetual tiredness that drove him to the rather random offer of help. “You butchered your hair,’ He commented bluntly with a sigh, leaning against a wooden beam, “Are you looking to have it fixed?” The question came out flat, his offer more veiled than anything, but an offer nonetheless.

The moment Ambrose made noise, the man began to stir, Zeph regretting that she’d ever entered the stables. She had not expected to find Solomon but now it was too late. The woman debated trying to creep out, though never did for fear of the man getting up and seeing her leave which would look worse than her just standing there. So she stood where she was, watching the man as he slowly woke up, though she tried to keep herself distracted. It felt wrong to her... her gaze falling to the dust on the floor of the stables.

Hearing him talk to her, she finally looked his way and offered a soft nervous smile. “I apologize. I didn’t know you were here... I came to say hi to Ambrose and he woke you up.” Her small hand reached out to press softly to the velvet nose, warm breath engulfing her fingers. Her smile shifted to something more genuine, though it was still weak as she scratched softly at the soft baby fur, palm moving to caress up the silky face of the horse she had become friends with. It was funny how she could be scared of the world, but didn’t even hold a fraction of nervousness around the oversized mount that could crush her in a moment if he so decided.

Her gaze fell to her bag with her few items as she stepped back to let Solomon out. “I didn’t take the time to notice,” she admitted. “And I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it out. I know we are both limited but I didn’t think a little kindness would hurt.” Zephyra fell silent with a soft sigh, reaching back for the horse to offer him some more pets. He was safe... Ambrose would not hurt her or turn her away. He was patient and gentle, and right now, that’s what she needed more than anything.

At Solomon’s comment, her head snapped up and turned towards him before her gaze quickly fell and she released a sigh, trying to put her attention back on the horse. “I tried fixing it last night... at least as best as I could. I don’t know anyone who would do it, and I’m not sure I could even manage to allow a stranger so close.” It never dawned on her that Solomon was offering. Why would it? The man had made it abundantly clear he did not want to be near her, and the only reason they were meeting now was unfortunate timing.

“I’m not very good at it, I’m afraid. I was not expecting to be stopping somewhere as myself so it didn’t really matter. I had it shoved in a hat since, at the time, I was pretending to be a man to the best of my ability.” It was her honest explanation before she fell silent again, giving the horse a gentle pat before turning to return to the inn. Truth was, she didn’t really want to be alone in the stable. Originally, she was just going to pop in long enough to say hi to Ambrose then leave. She had said her hello and now she wanted to go back to the safety of her room.

She started her way back, hazel eyes searching the dirt again. It seemed she couldn’t really lift her head up except to look around and see who all was where, yet another thing she had to work on in her long list. “Again, I am sorry. I did not mean to wake you. Had I known, I would have said hello to Ambrose later,” she restated what she had said earlier, still not wanting him to think she had purposefully sought him out. Though she had to admit she was relieved to see him looking at least a little better.

He listened to her explanation and followed her out of the stables, the justification for the hairstyle was a disguise. Not that she needed to justify herself, but Solomon couldn’t deny the slight curiosity he held about it. Pretending to be a man was a bit farther than he had expected her to go, especially when she just ended up running back to advocate for his freedom. Solomon saw it all as a waste of time and effort, but then again, he viewed the entire situation as a waste of time and effort. He was more than his fair share of bitter and nothing was going to change that.

But he was less explosive that morning, though it certainly wasn’t because he had a change of heart. No, Solomon just hadn’t had the opportunity to become grumpy, something that was sure to happen. When did it not? At least for now the snappish attitude was not quite there, which allowed him to walk with the woman back towards the inn, where they would then go their separate ways. They were strangers whose connection was an awful one, yet they were thrown together again under a different circumstance. It was unfortunate, but now he was stuck with her.

Or rather, they were stuck together. “I suppose taking on a different gender was your best bet at hiding. Smart idea.” Solomon shrugged, not sure what else to say, “Though most would opt for scissors. I believe they are more... easy to use.” He assumed that was not what she had used to achieve the horribly uneven cut. Not that he particularly cared what she did. She was free and no longer bound to anyone. In the beginning, that had come as a relief with her successful freedom. But now? It appeared his solitary act of kindness had come back to bite him, though he wouldn’t have taken back what he did.

“You don’t have to apologize to me.” He stated, gaze wandering around the area subconsciously, “I’m not here to impose a curfew onto you or be some warden, you’re free, that isn’t expected anymore. I didn’t even expect that of you then.” Solomon would have rather buried the events of the palace forever, but he knew that wasn’t possible. His whole life had been there… “I just want my space to be respected.” He might have been selfish, but it didn’t mean that he was expecting her to hide away in fear that he caught her out of the corner of his eye. That wasn’t how freedom worked. If he was going to chastise her for being in his line of sight, how much different was that from imprisonment?

“You can do what you want and go where you want, that’s none of my business, it's yours. I don’t want to be bothered unless necessary, that is all I wanted in the first place.” He was setting his boundaries in a much nicer way, though he doubted it would work. But at least he could try again since he knew she just wanted to be helpful. If he had been another person, perhaps he would have appreciated that, but he was Solomon. He never wanted a shred of assistance and he was trying to make that abundantly clear. He didn’t want to argue, he just wanted to be left alone.

He looked around the inn as they entered, not really having taken the time before. It was a decent place to spend their time, at least. Solomon knew he couldn't afford it forever as he was now out of job and home, but he decided that would be a problem for tomorrow. He knew he should probably talk to Zephyra about what would happen moving forward, as it seemed they were grouped together, much to his dismay, but he decided against it. No, he only continued up the stairs to get to his room, recalling for a moment that he should’ve gotten food while he was out. It was too late for that now.

Solomon looked over the pile of stuff outside his room, not sure what any of it was but he knew he should take it in or dispose of it. He wasn’t one for etiquette, but he didn’t want to annoy the inn owner or draw any additional attention to himself. It was going to be hard enough to hide as it was. The man opened his door, but paused with a sigh, throwing a rather blank glance at Zephyra. “I know my way around a pair of scissors,” He admitted, looking anywhere but her, not exactly sure what he was offering for. Perhaps it was because she had been uncomfortable when he had mentioned it, “I used to do my sisters and soldiers. I can fix it… if it was something that you wanted.”

Put at ease by his less abrasive nature that morning, Zephyra dared to relax the slightest bit. She kept a general eye on her surroundings, aware of where people were, but she was less anxious than the last few days or even before at the market. It helped having someone she at least somewhat felt she could trust, especially when he wasn’t making a fuss or actively shoving her away with his words and tone. Not that he wasn’t still making a point about his space, but it was much more subdued and put in a way that she completely understood. Not that she hadn’t before or it would have changed what she did, but it was much more conversational.

Though, it was the first time she realized just how nervous she had been about the idea of even accidently running into him during the past few days and even after it. It was mostly subconscious really, though she did nod. “I will remember that. My intentions were never to invade your space but simply to do what I could to help. But I will be more considerate from this point forward.” It was the honest truth and she meant her words. Zephyra was looking to keep him an ally, not turn him into an enemy or destroy the prospect of him being able to help.

She paused at her door when he stopped and looked at her, hazel eyes glancing in his direction. At first, she missed the point behind his words, confused what scissors had to do with anything. It wasn’t until he mentioned his sisters and fixing it, that she realized he was talking about her hair. But more than that, he was offering to fix it. The whole offer took her a minute to register, something she would never expect from the man. Though she never expected anything he had done from the moment she met him.

“I…” she paused, taking a moment to let her thoughts flow a little more coherently. “It would be nice,” came the quiet admission as she glanced at the floor then back at him. “I honestly tried to fix it last night, but I’ve never done it before and it was hard to see." Looking to her room, she nodded softly towards it, “Let me put my things inside first, if you don’t mind. And only if you’re up to it.” The nervous light was back in her eyes, though she turned to try and hide it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the help, she did. It was simply hard for her to let someone so close.

But as she slipped into her room, laying the bag on the bed, Zephyra was determined to do it. Her hair needed done and she feared anyone else more than she could ever fear Solomon at this point. She knew his intentions were good, which brought with it its own wave of relief. Though had he asked to do it in her room, she would have declined. Even she had her boundaries and need for space, hers however, coming from a much darker place and fears instilled into her due to her abuse.

Stepping back into the hall, she made her way to his room before knocking. As she entered, she offered him a small smile. “When I cut it at first, all I had was the knife you gave me. Last time I took the time to change my appearance in a town carefully… it didn’t go well. I didn’t want to take the chance.” Subconsciously a hand moved over her wrist, rubbing the area softly as she offered the smallest and weakest of shrugs. “I tried using scissors later but, as you can tell, I didn’t do very well.”

Solomon nodded as she requested the time to put her things in her room. “I’ll wait for you in my room then.” Was his only response that came accompanied with a shrug. He took a moment to collect the things she had left him, depositing the little pile with the other things, which was now growing bigger. He shook his head. This woman and her handouts… she never knew when to stop, did she? Her insistent kindness confused him and he knew it always would. He wasn’t the type to help or spend time on those who didn’t want it, but she seemed more than willing to do so.

His room was a mess, so Solomon took a moment to pick up some things. He tidied the pile by his door and folded the bloodied comforter and set it aside. He spent a few more moments tidying up, not looking to have her walk into a trash heap, before gathering what he needed, which amounted to water, scissors, and a comb. All of which he already had in the room, so it didn’t take much preparation. He wasn’t even sure why he was offering or why he had even thought it was a good idea, but he wasn’t about to turn her away now. That would be unnecessarily cruel.

He supposed he could use it as payment for her bandaging her back, though he hadn’t even wanted her to do so. Really, he didn’t have an excuse. “Enter.” He spoke when she knocked, head swiveling her direction. She smiled at him, his face remained blank. Solomon gestured for her to come over and stand in front of him, his materials on a nearby nightstand. A mirror wouldn’t be necessary for him to work, though he figured she could find one after to inspect his finished product. It wasn’t as if he was some expert, but he could certainly fix the botched cut.

“Sometimes you have to do what you need to do for a disguise. If it’s between losing your hair and your life, I do think the choice is obvious.” Solomon took the time to begin wetting the bottom of her hair, mindful of his fingers and avoiding any of her skin in efforts to respect her personal boundaries. With a surprising gentleness, he began to comb through the strands, doing his best not to tug. If it had been a soldier, he probably wouldn’t have cared, but with the woman he was extra delicate, moving very slowly and deliberately, He knew he was big and in her bubble and as cruel as he could be, he wasn’t trying to startle her.

Solomon messed with her hair for a few more moments, trying to find a starting point in the midst of a disaster where there really wasn’t one. “It isn’t that big of a deal. Yes, you cut it all wrong and blades aren’t ever good for haircutting, but it’ll grow back to whatever length you want within the year.” He shrugged, beginning the first few snips of the chestnut strands, “Unless you cut off a finger, I can fix it. Hair grows fast, don’t waste energy fretting over it.” For once, the man was surprisingly supportive and gentle, though the environment was a much different one.

He stood and thought for a moment, eyeing the hair as he took a couple more experimental snips with his scissors. Fixing short hair on a woman definitely wasn’t the easiest. “A more angled cut will be the way to go, I think. It’ll save more of your length than a blunt cut. Longer in the front than the back. Kind of like a bob but a tad different.” Solomon explained, though he paused so he could have her input. It was her hair, after all, and she might have ideas before a man came and chopped it off and took away a portion of what little length she had left.

It was hard for her not to stiffen, and for a few moments, it was a battle, though she lost and her body tensed at just how close Solomon was. All the knowledge in the world and deep understanding that he would never take advantage of her could not relax her as he moved so close to the back of her neck and worked with her hair. Hazel eyes stayed open, the woman grounding herself in the reality of the situation, gaze sweeping around the room as a distraction.

It wasn’t in order, which stuck out to her considering from her experience, Solomon tended to be tidy with everything in a place. Not that his room was awful by any means, things folded up and in a state of general order, just not to his usual degree. Perhaps it was simply a matter of him being too tired or hurting too much with his back and other various wounds. It was a plausible enough explanation, and for the moment, she settled with that, reverting her attention back to what the man was telling her.

She accepted his gentle and kind words, though didn’t nod lest she ruin what he was doing. The woman was doing quite well with the whole thing, considering there were far too many bad memories of men behind her, playing with her hair. Though in those cases, there was often unreserved touching. And as the moments passed, Zeph did manage to relax some, gaining her own mental reassurance that this was definitely different. She had known it in her mind and heart, but the memories were still painfully fresh and easily conjured up in the situation. But once more, determination pulled her through, a sign that the woman was stronger than she believed herself to be. There was simply a lot of healing that had to be done.

“I will be sure to avoid taking my finger off,” she offered in a small attempt at good humor. Humor, another thing she would have to become comfortable with and learn to have as something genuine. She had learned to fake it many times to play her part, her mind having shifted into an existence of fighting to survive. She had a long road ahead of her, but even this was a solid step in the right direction, despite it being with someone she knew and at least carried a small spark of trust for.

“Do whatever looks right to you,” she encouraged as he explained what he was looking to do. The woman knew exactly what he was talking about. Zeph was quite good with styling hair and understanding how it worked, she simply couldn’t cut it. And honestly, she had little regard for what her hair turned into. It would just be nice not to have it looking so awful and cause her to continue to stand out. “I don’t really have a preference,” she admitted to him, “I just don’t want it to cause me to stand out in the way that it seems to.” Though everything made her feel like she stood out.

“I won’t be growing it out again for a while anyway, so I’m not overly concerned with how long it will take it to grow.” She kept absolutely still for him to work, seemingly more comfortable than she was before. “I can’t thank you enough for this. I don’t think I would have been able to get it done by anyone else and you’ve already seen my poor attempt at fixing it myself.” There was a pause before she continued on a different track of conversation. “You mentioned you used to cut your sisters’ and soldiers’ hair...” But she left it at that, not sure where else to go with it.