Passage to Kraälst Ta'ark

Abandoned Segment

A month later, he was able to walk around within the building, often stretching and squatting. His muscles cramped from being bedridden for that long. With a bunched up t-shirt, he'd do hand exercises to build up strength in his arm. The bathroom was a different story.

An unfortunate situation, since there weren't that many rooms. Embarrassed and completely uncomfortable, he'd use the furthest one down the corridor within the eastern wing, but the strangeness of it was too difficult for him to grow accustomed to. It was strange, since he had to do the same thing in the underground area they previously hid at, but that place was huge. Usually, he waited until Syrqnä was away to perform bathroom duties.

They had set up their sleeping area, or commons area, to a room further back in the middle section of the building. When he returned, he was surprised to find her already there. His cheeks flushed with a crimson color as he held his head down, averting his gaze. At that moment, he would've traded anything for a normal bathroom. She paused and lifted an eyebrow, but didn't speak. Instead, she reached into her bag and took out a white bottle, shaking it in front of his face.

What's this? He read the label. Multivitamins?

A fortunate find. I don't believe you're getting all the proper nutrients from eating canned food and the rare tuna packets. Not that it's been stunting your growth, but I think it would be wise for you to take them. She reached in, pulled out a knife and held it out towards him.

Okay! I'll take them! Just put the knife away! He held a hand out.

It's to cut your hair.

With a knife?? No. You get that thing away from me!

We'll do this the easy way or the hard way.

He ran away from her. You can't make me.

I won't run after you, though ... you know I can easily catch you. At least braid it? Look how long and matted your hair is. You resemble an Orangutan.

She was right. He held out a tuft of long hair, it was just a few inches above his waist. What about the Vikings, they wore braids. Didn't they? They still managed to look manly. A ridiculous image of him as a Viking took form in his head and quickly changed his mind. It might not have been the best look for him. Begrudgingly, he rescinded his previous statement.

Fine ... cut it.

The knife ruggedly pulled and cut on his hair, often snagging on a strand. He muffled a whimper and furiously glared at her. Was she trying to kill him? His neck would jerk in different directions as she quickly pulled segments to cut through. There was a crink to the left, backwards, to the right, forwards and he was fairly certain she was going to break his neck. After ten extremely annoying minutes, Syrqnä placed the knife down.

Done.

It feels weird? Do you have a mirror somewhere in that bag? His hand rummaged through his hair, it felt uneven. Tugging some of the longer ends, he huffed. I think you did a crappy job. Stick to your equations, fighting Kraälst and leave my hair alone! You suck!

You still have your ears.

Lucky! I probably look insane. It probably looks a hundred times worse than it did before. I should've just gone for the braid! He kicked her bag.

Hey, I just made that. You could have kicked the insignia and we would have a deflated corpse in the middle of the room.

The memory came rushing back. Holding a hand over his mouth, he stifled his laughter. I almost forgot about that feature.