How's this? :3
Sept 6, 2011 0:20:51 GMT -5
Post by Herbert von Krolock on Sept 6, 2011 0:20:51 GMT -5
What little part of Herbert wasn't preoccupied by practically dithering over Tybalt's discovery- and whether or not he might even kill Herbert for it given the chance- was being strongly reminded of why he didn't bother trying to alter his hair from its usual long, rather flat condition.
For one thing, lacking a reflection made things difficult. Getting it cut in the first place without giving the game away required finding a stall in an alley belonging to someone who was more interested in buying hair than styling it in the slightest, rather than seeking the attentions of an actual barber. And then, even when that was done, there was the new challenge of the fact that Herbert's biology was so dead-set on maintaining the status quo that only a few hours after Tybalt had passed out, Herbert's hair was making a valiant effort to brush over his shoulders again.
That was where the reflection problem returned. Under most circumstances, Herbert would have called it quits and let nature take its course, but, well, there was the matter of Tybalt, and how desperately Herbert wanted to keep him. This lead to a trip into the bathroom, armed with scissors of his own.
Herbert's previous experience at cutting his own hair sight unseen was limited to one incident in 1767 where doing so on a bet earned him some three hundred coins, and that was just a matter of lopping off his ponytail where it was tied and then skipping town with the money before anyone figured out the nature of his game and showed up with something pointy. This was a little more complicated.
Tybalt might have not shown too much of a problem with the default state of Herbert's hair, of course, but now that everything was in the open Herbert was fairly determined to be as soldierly and Tybalt-compatible as possible, if only in how he looked, and while it did occur to Herbert that Tybalt's own hair was rather long, it just seemed different.
The first cut was easy. The second one was definitely too high, without a reflection to guide by.
Shit.
When Herbert emerged some twenty minutes later, he was running his hands concernedly through hair that he'd ended up having not much choice but to start cutting up the back, hoping that Tybalt would forgive the mess or- even better- think it made him look delightfully careless, at least until he was accustomed to it regenerating itself faster than the post could get a letter to the next province.
For all his attempted physical protestations of manliness, though, Herbert still entered Tybalt's room with a glass of water and a bowl of not entirely successful soup to try to wake him.
For one thing, lacking a reflection made things difficult. Getting it cut in the first place without giving the game away required finding a stall in an alley belonging to someone who was more interested in buying hair than styling it in the slightest, rather than seeking the attentions of an actual barber. And then, even when that was done, there was the new challenge of the fact that Herbert's biology was so dead-set on maintaining the status quo that only a few hours after Tybalt had passed out, Herbert's hair was making a valiant effort to brush over his shoulders again.
That was where the reflection problem returned. Under most circumstances, Herbert would have called it quits and let nature take its course, but, well, there was the matter of Tybalt, and how desperately Herbert wanted to keep him. This lead to a trip into the bathroom, armed with scissors of his own.
Herbert's previous experience at cutting his own hair sight unseen was limited to one incident in 1767 where doing so on a bet earned him some three hundred coins, and that was just a matter of lopping off his ponytail where it was tied and then skipping town with the money before anyone figured out the nature of his game and showed up with something pointy. This was a little more complicated.
Tybalt might have not shown too much of a problem with the default state of Herbert's hair, of course, but now that everything was in the open Herbert was fairly determined to be as soldierly and Tybalt-compatible as possible, if only in how he looked, and while it did occur to Herbert that Tybalt's own hair was rather long, it just seemed different.
The first cut was easy. The second one was definitely too high, without a reflection to guide by.
Shit.
When Herbert emerged some twenty minutes later, he was running his hands concernedly through hair that he'd ended up having not much choice but to start cutting up the back, hoping that Tybalt would forgive the mess or- even better- think it made him look delightfully careless, at least until he was accustomed to it regenerating itself faster than the post could get a letter to the next province.
For all his attempted physical protestations of manliness, though, Herbert still entered Tybalt's room with a glass of water and a bowl of not entirely successful soup to try to wake him.