Shatterstar’s hair doesn’t feel exactly like hair, Rictor thinks as he scowls down at the diagram. They’re sitting on the roof of the building that houses Murderworld, and it is a muggy, suffocating East Coast summer day. Ric has taken to wearing a bandanna to keep the sweat out of his eyes, and ‘Star’s hair weighs about a hundred pounds. It’s too thick, too soft. Almost like a pelt of some massive, exotic animal bred for it’s coat and he pauses in the braid, looking at the fiery strands between his fingers. The thought twists in his gut a little bit because that is a little too on the nose.
“Your hair is really hard to braid.” He says instead. “And… are you sure you want me doin’ this? I mean, some of these styles are kind of..”
“Julio.” ‘Star tips his head back to look up at him in the scant shade of the rooftop. The humidity doesn’t bother him. Mojoworld, to the best of Rictor’s recollection, is basically a swamp – and the worst effect the weather has on ‘Star is the fact that his ends get wildly curly in the damp. “When I was in the arena, I wore that ridiculous headpiece to try and keep my hair out of my face. They only let me cut or braid it where it wouldn’t be seen by the audience. The spineless ones liked how my hair always signaled my location on the field. But it was a..” ‘Star pauses, chewing on one scarlet coil. “A liability at times. This. This is my choice. And I do not want anyone else touching my hair if I can have a say in the matter.” There’s a tiny wrinkle at the corner of his silvery eyes and Ric’s heart skips a beat. That minuscule tic of a smile that he only does for him.
“Ok, but if Jimmy says you look like a pretty princess…” Ric starts again as ‘Star resettles himself.
“I will thank him and tell him to get on his knees. A princess deserves respect.” ‘Star replies, perfectly deadpan and Ric doesn’t have to see his face to know that he’s smiling.
😀
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