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 Posted: Sun Apr 28, 2013 8:31 am
(Can also double as a Watch Rp because Ai is nosy)
It was a slow day for Raolan. Not many people coming in to have their hair cut or their faces shaved, which was a shame, because Raolan was also out of material for wigs, the other chief use of his time. It was also the other part of his profession and a nice little source of income for both him and the prison. It wasn't like the prisoners needed all that hair, and some had very nice hair. So of course, it was good to share it, after cleaning it thoroughly and carefully of course.
Suffice to say, he was sharpening and taking care of his tools, even though he had just done the same tasks an hour ago. He was bored. Bored wasn't bad, but it really wasn't good either. There was a degree of boredom beyond which he started to get grumpy, and this was it.
He took a swig of cold, crappy Klah and grumbled something as he polished his straight razor and put it safely away.
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Posted: Sun Apr 28, 2013 8:42 am
Zamanateth was more than a little moody.
Huffed Zamanateth,
Ai couldn't help smiling at her dragon's incredulous look,
Ai kept the laugh mental as she approached the building.
"Love," she said out loud, "You are going to have to stay outside... I don't think you can fit."
Zamanateth was suddenly very interested,
Ai neglected to mention that barbers cut hair as she gave her dragon a scritch on the nose and opened the door.
"Hello?" She didn't see him immediately, so she pushed forward. The place smelled warm, of hair and oil with some other scents she couldn't identify. And sweat, too. "I'm here for your services...?" if anybody was here.
Ah! There he was, he was so dour that he blended into the slightly grubby mirrors and stone walls.
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Posted: Sat May 11, 2013 7:31 pm
Raolan didn't immediately snap to attention as Ai walked in. He was still cleaning. He loved hair- how could he not- but it got in the most absurd places sometimes and this may be a prison but he kept his facilities in top shape.
It took him a while before he looked up to see one of the nicest heads of hair he had seen in some time. It was white, but thick and dense enough to hold the white. It held the white well, speaking not of age or deterioration but of experience and a distinguished attitude.
Raolan's mood lightened. And then he noticed the knots and the large shining dragon outside.
Its that weyrwoman he thought, suddenly wary. What did she want with him.
Oh yes. Services.
He approached, wiping his hands.
"What can I offer you, Ma'am?" he said, gruffly neutral.
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Posted: Tue May 21, 2013 5:53 pm
said Zamanateth, smirking.
He certainly did have an attitude. Was it because of his job, the prison, or both? "Well." said Ai, staring him right in the eyes- she would not be intimidated by a surly barber.
"I would like to" she couldn't believe she was saying this, "Have my hair done."
Zamanateth tried to peer in, surprised.
Usually she kept her hair short so she wouldn't have to worry about it, but...
"Appearances are important" she said, offhandedly, "And I thought I might enlist your services in" she bit back her hesitation, "Styling my hair"
and sharp objects?
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Posted: Sun Jun 02, 2013 5:18 pm
"You want me to do your hair." Raolan couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Nobody wanted their hair done, except for that annoying weyrling-or-whatever-the-impressed-prisoners-were. Nobody had wanted their hair done in five years. People didn't care about that here.
Could he shave a head? Yes. Could he shave the prisoner? Yes.
Most people did terrible do-it-themself jobs on their hair here, keeping it short and out of the way. With a knife.
Some didn't cut their hair. He could swear that some didn't wash their hair either.
Occasionally he got requests for hair dye and shaves from prisoners who had earned the right to have sharp objects anywhere near them, but most of his business was in shaving heads and selling wigs. He and the prison made a tidy mark off of that.
But nobody around here cared enough about the appearance of their hair to bother with the other things he was trained to do.
Not that some of these people didn't need his help, but they also could stab him if he brought it up and sharp objects aside, Raolan was not a killer.
"Right." he went to polishing one of the mirrors. "What do you actually want, Ma'am" he was not playing games anymore. He was sick of Watchpeople coming in and ruining his nice uneventful life. They could ask their damn questions and leave him alone.
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