|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Nov 27, 2013 12:05 pm
Pink had always just been a fun color. It looked good in blonde hair and against tanned skin. It made the pale lavender of her eyes pop. It was bright and cheerful and fluffy, and never once had Peyton ever associated it with anything bad, or negative, or sad. Until now. Now the color reminded her of Shiloh. Shiloh who had always been sweet, and helpful, and bright. Shiloh who she hadn't gotten a chance to get to know better, but who she'd still considered a friend. Shiloh who she'd just gone on a mission with. Who she'd just seen laughing, and making jokes. Now he was gone. Suddenly and unexpectedly and not at all how any hunter should ever fall. It hadn't been on a mission, or facing off against the forces of darkness. It had been an accident. A stupid, avoidable accident. A tear slid down the Sun's cheek, then another, and after that it was impossible to stop them. Peyton cried over what a waste it was. Over how this incident dredged up ghosts of the past and made old wounds feel rare again. And over the absolute mess of her hands, stained pink, and the sorry state of once blonde curls as she tried to apply what was left of her carefully rationed hair dye onto the whole of her head in some silly sign of remembrance. She stood hunched over one of the sinks, crying, as heavy drops of bright color dripped from her curls and ran in slow, colorful lines down the drain. She'd never tried to color her entire head before, and she was failing at it spectacularly.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 30, 2013 4:55 pm
The desire to go home was still knock-knock-knocking on the door to her heart. But like it was just another nuisance, she turned her head away and trudged on like maybe if she ignored it long enough the feeling would subside. Alaska had never been fond of home anyways, so why the sudden desire to run crying back to cold-hearted daddy and turns-a-blind-eye mommy. Because you could always change your mind and run back home. A couple apologies and you’d be back to your almost-perfect life. But not anymore. The reaper whispered, lacking the usual pep and cheer she was so often known for. Oh. Realization. I see.
But going home had never been an option. Light cast hollow, unflattering shadows across her face as she stared into her personal mirror. Tattooed fingers ran a hand through her raven, dyed hair. No matter how many times she washed the dye out, she could never wash away the tattoo ink and perpetually-knitted brows. Alaska could just see the looks on her parents’ faces.
Her fingers played out a slow, somewhat clumsy Moonlight Sonata as she exited her room and headed down the hallyway for the showers. It wasn’t just the clacks of her boots echoing, but someone’s crying. For one long moment she stood at the door before finally letting it swing shut. Alaska slowly walked toward a free sink, and for a long moment she considered leaving without a word.
And perhaps Peyton would see tattooed fingers gently reach for her hair. “That’s a rather poor dye job you have there. No towels. No gloves. First time?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 30, 2013 5:19 pm
The door opened and swung shut and foot steps approached the sinks. Peyton cringed, shoulders hunching, at having been found in such a sorry state, and as those tattooed fingers came into view the much shorter Sun straightened, wiping at hr eyes with her forearm to keep from staining her face with the dye still covering her hands. Pale eyes glared up at the other girl, lips curling as if she'd snap, say something unfortunate, but the look faded, and her shoulders slumped as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "Not exactly, but I usually stick with just the ends." She turned back to the sink, resting the heels of her palms on the edge and leaning forward, peering at the mess of her hair in the mirror with a shaking sigh. "I got this stupid idea in my head to color the lot of it as like a show of respect, or remembrance, to Shiloh. His hair was pink," Not quite this bright a shade, but close. "Did you know him?" Did she knew he was dead? Peyton didn't recognize the other trainee, not really. She was in Sun, but that was really the extent of her knowledge. There wasn't a name to place with the face, and she couldn't recall having ever seen anyone even remotely similar on twitter. There was however a nagging familiarity that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Not solid enough for her to assume she'd ever met the other girl before, but as though she'd seen someone similar, somewhere. It was impossible to put her finger on, and stressed as she was, it wan't surprising.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 03, 2013 4:56 pm
Peyton would never have seen Alaska on twitter because she never had one to begin with. It was all too troublesome for her to keep up with, and if she wanted to look at any updates in her comrades’ lives, she only needed to bang at Nevada’s door and read her twitter feed. For the most part, she led a simple, somewhat secluded life on the island, and she rather liked it that way.
“I’ve heard the name passed around a couple times, but that’s it,” she answered. Even if she hadn’t heard the news, she could glean at least that much from Petyon’s diction. Remembrance. Show of respect. Words that weren’t used too lightly.
Although her fingertips grazed the other hunter’s hair, Alaska clicked her tongue. “You should really grab some gloves before you continue any further unless you want to stain your fingers. I’ll be back.” It didn’t take her long to find her own set of plastic gloves, brush and towel for dying. It was stained somewhat by use.
Alaska rolled her wrists as she returned to the showers. “Bright pink, hm?” she muttered as she grabbed sections of Petyon’s hair. “Good thing your hair is light already. Did you want it all pink or in a gradient? Gradients require a little extra.” She spoke unnaturally soft the entire time, running her gloved hands through the girl’s hair. “Here, put the towel on your shoulders.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 05, 2013 12:51 pm
Peyton nodded, unwilling to bring up Shiloh's death on her own. Instead she stared at herself in the mirror, and wiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks with the back of a hand. If the other girl didn't ask, they could avoid talking about death, and Peyton could try to focus on other things, more trivial things. Easier things. She waited for the other Sun to return with supplies, before answering. "To be honest I wasn't really thinking that far ahead. Usually I just do the ends, and it's not half as messy as this. I didn't think it'd be all that different." A hollow laugh followed, small, pink stained fingers gesturing towards messy curls. "Clearly I was wrong." Another mute nod followed Alaska's question on her color preference. This must she at least knew. Her hair picked up the bright pigment well, holding onto it. She'd found she didn't need to touch it up as often as someone who'd had to bleach their hair before coloring it. She even knew how to gradient it herself, but that wasn't her aim, not this time. "Just all pink. I'll worry about gradienting later, when it starts to grow out. I know how to do that." When the towel was offered to her towel she took it, draping it over her shoulders. It was probably too little too late, she'd probably already stained the shirt, but oh well. It wasn't one of her favorites, it didn't really matter. There was a moment of quiet as the other girl slid her fingers through damp curls, then Peyton spoke up again. "I'm Peyton."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 26, 2014 5:06 pm
“Once you’ve fiddled with your hair as much as I have, you start to think more carefully about these things,” she answered, almost as if trying to reassure and comfort the other sun hunter. She felt tempted to smile wryly. Before running away, Alaska never would’ve thought to touch a single strand of her pretty brunette hair, but now it was dark and filled with brightly-colored strands that ranged from red to green to blue. She’d tried other things as well as—extensions, long hair, short hair, pixie cuts, bleaching, perms. She’d done everything under the sun and more.
Alaska nodded her head, running her hand through Peyton’s hair a couple more times before taking the brush and dipping it into the dye. “Gradients aren’t too difficult to do anyways.” She murmured before letting her voice die away, echoing against the restroom walls as she began to run the brush through her hair. Her gaze followed the towel, now draped across the girl’s shoulders. While the shirt was still stained, at least it wouldn’t be coated even more with pale pink.
“Alaska.” She looked up into the mirror, taking in Peyton’s face. It felt familiar. Another moment of contemplative silence revealed why. “Sun division.” There was no mention of her twin. It wasn’t that important to mention, not now, and such things could always be addressed at a later time.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 28, 2014 7:40 am
Now that the other girl had taken control and was working on fixing the mess Peyton had made she seemed to be calmed down. She was quiet as Alaska started separating her hair to run the brush through it, finding the little taptap along her scalp soothing. "I'm glad someone found me that knew what they were doing. Thank you." A twitch of brow followed the introduction. She knew that name, had heard it before, knew the connection. "It's nice to finally meet you face to face." A smile, friendly and open though not quite as bright as her usual grin. "And I'm sure Sun is better for having you." She wasn't sure how close any of the other divisions were, Mist seemed tight, but Sun had always seemed like a giant family. Even if they didn't all like each other, they were a team, a unit. Allan had done a great job in instilling his lessons on Kokoro and Nakama. "So how long have you been awake?" She wondered how Nevada felt. If she was more relieved to have her sister out of the pod, or more anxious.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
