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The act of someone else doing your hair is inherently an intimate action. Or, at least, that’s how Falin had always seen it. She sometimes missed the time, before she had scared her parents away, when her mother would sit her down in front of her and brush out the knots from when she had played with Laios. Her mother was none-too-gentle with her, pulling and tugging hard enough to occasionally make Falin cry out in pain. Still, she found herself longing for the care that her mother had in making sure her hair was free of tangles, to make sure it was pinned back so that it didn’t get in her face, putting in pretty clips from time to time.
After she had shown her magic, Laios had tried a couple of times, and she appreciated it. He tried to be much gentler with the boar-hair brush, untangling with his fingers when he couldn’t get the hang of it. At the end, he would pet her head much like one of their family dogs, causing her to return his smile.
Despite this, it didn’t take long for him to leave. And, after that, she was sent to magic school. There, the importance of caring for one’s hair was further emphasized, since it was so important to their magic. But she didn’t have pretty clips or ribbons like the other girls did; most of her non-essential belongings had been left at home, where she wouldn’t be surprised if they had been sold. Even though she kept her hair short, and liked it that way, she couldn’t help but be jealous sometimes. When she saw a classmate with a bejeweled dragonfly hair clip, she felt a pang of want deep within her. Or when she saw a younger girl with multicolored ribbons braided through her long, sleek hair.
Still, what she was most jealous of was when she saw the other students doing each others’ hair.
When she saw a group of girls sitting in a circle, all braiding each others’ hair, or an upperclassmen stopping one of her peers to pick out the twigs that had gotten tangled up in her bun, Falin was reminded that she didn’t have anyone to do that for her anymore. Sure, she could and did do her own hair, but she didn’t have anyone that would care enough about her to want to treat her like that. Like she was someone that mattered.
It made her feel isolated. It made her write to Laios even more than she already was, though she never mentioned anything like that to him, not wanting him to worry. Sometimes, it even made her feel angry, laying in her bed in her dorm facing the wall, curled on her side, angry tears streaking down her cheeks.
Falin had never been someone who needed a lot of socialization. Generally, she’s always been happy doing her own thing, not really needing much interaction in order to be satisfied. But… there had always been someone there. Somebody she could talk to. Somebody who cared about her, who wanted to make her happy and keep her healthy. Somebody who would be willing to do her hair for her.
It felt ridiculous, getting this upset over something so silly. Falin rubbed her cheeks to dryness, sighed, and rolled over, getting as comfortable as she could. Maybe she just needed to sleep. They had a very important class tomorrow - they were going to be making their own dungeoniums in jars. Maybe she could use the dirt from the nearby dungeon to help hers along…
Marcille was not who Falin had been expecting. She’d heard of the girl - who hadn’t, at this school - being the genius of her class, doing everything by the book. Marcille Donato was extremely intelligent, highly competent, and was known for taking her work very seriously. In all honesty, when Falin had heard that the other girl was going to be observing her class, she’d expected Marcille to not like her much, if they interacted at all.
The Marcille that she met was very different from what Falin had expected.
She was serious about magic, yes, but she was willing to joke around. She was highly intelligent, but she sometimes didn’t make the best decisions. She was extremely competent, but she lacked creativity with her magic.
None of these were bad qualities - at least, not to Falin. In fact, it was these traits that made Falin so fond of Marcille.
Ever since she’d taken the elf to the dungeon, Marcille had stuck to Falin like glue, and the tall-man was hardly complaining. Sure, she loved the letters she exchanged with Laios, but having someone to actually talk to was amazing. Marcille didn’t mind when Falin rambled; she didn’t mind when she was silent, either. Marcille seemed to like every aspect of Falin she was introduced to, even if she didn’t quite understand some of them.
So, it made sense that they would hang out in the dorms - usually Marcille’s. Falin and her roommate didn’t really get along, and Marcille didn’t have one, so it made sense. Most of the time, Marcille insisted on at least the pretense of studying, but it didn’t take much to get her off-topic.
“I just really don’t understand what’s so difficult!” The elf was complaining, gesturing wildly with her hands as she talked. “I mean, obviously gnome magic is a lot different than elf magic, but it’s really not that hard to adjust for one system. That’s why a lot of the spells are basically the same when it comes to form. It’s really not that hard to extrapolate what the equivalent of a spell is, and yet the whole class is acting like we were asked to translate Orcish!”
Falin watched her friend rant with a small smile, nodding occasionally as she went. Marcille was very passionate about her studies, and she got annoyed very easily when she felt like her classmates weren’t trying. “Going between them is fine, but I do think it’s a bit much for that big a percentage of your grade.”
Marcille flapped her hand in vague agreement. “Oh, for sure, but it’s kind of inevitable that we’ll have to do this at some point in our careers. Personally, I would’ve made it count for 15% of the grade rather than 25%, but we’re not in charge of that! Complaining about it doesn’t make any sense. And really, it’s not even a full chapter of the spellbook that we’re given. We’re all more than prepared for this. Honestly, it’s kind of ridiculous to want to be a court magician if you can’t even go between the two most important systems of magic.”
Falin held back a laugh as Marcille almost slapped herself in the face with her gesticulations. “I get that.” It kind of sounds like it would be fun; but, also, she most likely would have freaked out had it been her who was assigned it.
“And- wait.” Marcille interrupted herself, turning her head to look at Falin straight-on. Falin felt a little nervous at the weight of those bright green eyes giving her their full attention, but she always felt like that around Marcille. The older girl pouted. “Falin, what did I tell you about going into the dungeon alone?” She scolded, pointing an accusatory finger at her.
She felt her cheeks flush a little. Marcille was convinced that the dungeon was dangerous, even with Falin making sure that she never strayed past the first floor. “I made sure to stay in the sunlight.” She murmured in her defense, ducking her head.
Falin heard Marcille sigh, before the elf nudged her shoulder. Falin looked up again, and Marcille gestured for her to sit up. When she did, Marcille scooted behind her. “Your hair is an absolute mess.” The older girl commented, before starting to pick the twigs out of Falin’s hair. Falin froze at the sudden touch, and Marcille paused. “Is this okay?” She asked, and Falin repressed a shiver at the sound of her voice suddenly coming from behind her, her breath brushing against her ear.
“It’s fine.” Falin quickly replied, not wanting her to stop. “Really.”
Marcille stayed still for a moment longer, before she started up again. When the twigs were gone, she got up and got her hairbrush, before beginning to brush Falin’s hair. Falin inhaled sharply at the contact, before exhaling, leaning into the touch. After a few moments of quiet, Marcille spoke again. “You’d think you’ve never had your hair done before.” She said, voice half-joking.
“It’s been a while.” She admitted. Falin could feel herself frown a little. “A few years, at least.”
The elf paused again, though she started brushing again after a half-second. “That long, huh?” Marcille’s voice was quieter now, with a much different tone. Falin wasn’t quite certain what it was, but it sounded… sad. “I’m sorry.”
Falin tried to glance behind herself. “What?” She asked, confused. Why was Marcille apologizing? It’s not like it was her fault.
Marcille, having detangled Falin’s hair, split it into three equal sections, beginning to braid it. “You deserve to be treated nicely, Falin.” Falin could hear the smile in the other girl’s voice. “You’re a wonderful person, and it makes me feel sad that you haven’t been taken care of for a long time. I want to take care of you.”
Falin didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything. After a short while, Marcille tied up the braid with a ribbon. She turned around to face her friend, and, when she did, saw that Marcille had untied one of her own braids, using its ribbon in order to tie Falin’s own. She felt a sudden stab of warmth somewhere deep in her chest at that, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. “Thank you.” She reached behind herself to toy with the braid, feeling a little shy all of a sudden.
“Of course, Falin.” Marcille grinned back at her, reaching out and poking the tip of her nose gently. Falin squirmed a little, which only caused Marcille to giggle.
Being resurrected was always quite the ordeal. Falin had always been disoriented afterwards, which in turn made Laios call for a rest, despite them only being on the second floor. Falin felt a little bad, but nobody seemed to protest, likely due to it being a full-party wipe. They’d managed to claim a hollowed out tree for their camp, and Laios had made them soup with the pork they’d gotten just a few days ago (though, he had burned himself in the process). Now, it seemed like all anyone wanted to do was go to sleep, hopefully to try again in the morning.
Falin couldn’t sleep, even though her death and the following resurrection had left her bone tired. She sighed as she rolled over onto her back, staring up at the tall, naturally-made ceiling of the tree.
Just as she decided to close her eyes and attempt a sleeping spell on herself, she felt someone nudging her on her shoulder. Falin opened her eyes again and looked over to see Marcille, who had climbed out of her bedroll and was crouching over her for some reason. She frowned in confusion. “Marcille?” She whispered, trying not to wake anyone - Chilchuck especially was never happy when he was woken up before dawn. “Is something wrong?”
The elf shook her head with a huff of breath, before reaching out to touch Falin’s head. “You didn’t bother to clean your hair, silly.” Marcille answered, voice barely loud enough for Falin to hear.
Oh. She figured she must look awful - she had died from a blow to the back of the head, after all. Now that Marcille mentioned it, she reached up and felt the sticky mess on her head. “I guess I was just too tired.” Falin sat up, crawling over to her bag, before Marcille reached out and gestured for her to stop.
“I can do it.” Marcille held up her comb, which was sparkling with what must have been a newly-cast cleaning spell.
Falin was tempted to ask if she was sure, but knew that, if she did, the other girl would just pout at her until she gave in. So, she just smiled and turned around to give Marcille access. The other girl was gentle, but thorough with her ministrations, and Falin felt herself getting more and more tired as she went on, her eyelids drooping. When she started to lean on Marcille, the elf paused, but Falin encouraged her to keep going with a satisfied hum, and the elf started up again within a second.
By the time that Marcille was done, Falin was like putty in her hands, more than halfway asleep and only awake enough to murmur a ‘thank you’. She couldn’t make Marcille out, but Falin didn’t need to see her in order to know that she was smiling when she maneuvered Falin back into her bedroll.
When she was all situated, there was a point in which Falin assumed that Marcille must have gone to bed herself, but she was surprised when she heard a shuddering inhale.
She was more surprised to feel the fleeting press of lips against her forehead.
There was a sudden shuffling sound, presumably Marcille hurrying into her own bedroll, but Falin wasn’t in the right state of mind to care. After all, she had just been given a kiss by a very, very pretty girl. A forehead kiss, sure, but that didn’t exactly stop her from getting flustered.
Falin knew that she and Marcille were affectionate, but they’d never done anything like that before. It had only been hugs, interlocked arms, holding hands… things that showed intimacy, to be sure, but that were firmly allowed. Things that allowed Falin to bask in the closeness of the situation without having to panic about the implications.
Forehead kisses didn’t necessarily cross the line into romance; Falin knew this. But it was hard for her heart to feel like something hadn’t just changed.
She had known for a while that, at least on her side of things, the relationship between herself and Marcille wasn’t entirely platonic. But that didn’t mean that she let herself feel those things. They were too complicated.
The fact of the matter was that, no matter what they felt about each other, Marcille was going to outlive her, and by a lot at that. Falin was going to be old and gray within only a few decades, with Marcille remaining young and beautiful for centuries more. To ask Marcille to be with her, when her life would essentially be a blink compared to an elf’s, just… didn’t make sense, no matter how hurt her heart felt when she reminded it of this.
Shuro had proposed to her a while ago. He was kind, and smart, and she knew that he would never dream of hurting her. Even though she didn’t feel the same way towards him, Falin knew that she could be content living as his wife. From the stories he’s told, she knew that she could adjust to living in the East with him. Marcille could visit sometimes, just like Laios would, and things would be fine. After all, her parents often told her that being in love often wasn’t the main reason for people getting married. She’d told Shuro that she’d think about it, but, logically, he was the immediate best option for her.
And yet, she still didn’t answer him. Falin didn’t want to hurt him - he had been nothing but good to her this whole time - but she still couldn’t bring herself to accept him. Not like that.
As Falin finally, finally drifted off to sleep, she imagined a world in which she didn’t have to settle for someone that she didn’t love, and thought about being allowed to be with Marcille as more than just a friend from school.
After the dust had settled - after her brother became King, after she came back in a more-human form, after the rest of the continent had risen - Falin wasn’t quite sure what to think. So many things had changed around her, and it seemed like, no matter what, she would never be able to fully understand what had happened while she… wasn’t herself.
Toshiro (because, as she learned through a semi-awkward conversation, Shuro wasn’t actually his name) had graciously accepted her rejection, simply stating that he was happy that she was well, and asking to exchange letters with her, which was a request she accepted. After all, despite the misunderstandings, Falin didn’t hold anything against him. It seemed that, after all that had happened, even he had changed.
There were other, more obvious changes, though. For one thing, there was a whole new party member. Senshi was kind to her, and she found herself getting along with him very well. He liked that she asked what her dragon half had tasted like, and she liked listening to his stories. Sometimes, they just sat together in the quiet, and that felt like enough. Laios had been thrilled that they got along, even though Falin didn’t think there was any world in which she didn’t find the dwarf absolutely fascinating.
Her brother was another change. Not just that he was now a king, though that was obviously a lot for them both to adjust to. Now, though Laios tried and tried and tried, no monster would come anywhere near him. This, understandably so, made him very sulky, even though most of the people he was supposed to be ruling were thrilled at the inherent protection that this gave them. Still, Falin and Senshi had tried to find workarounds for him - it turned out that monstrous plants didn’t mind him much, so those were introduced to the castle’s greenhouse. They weren’t the same, but Laios still enjoyed spending time with them when he could; he’d always wanted a garden of them, and Falin agreed that the fruit was quite tasty, though she hadn’t been expecting the saltiness.
Chilchuck was someone who, at first, Falin didn’t think had changed much. He was his usual “I care about you but I’m trying not to show it” self when she’d first seen him; his main change seemed to be the cat-girl that was clinging to him. But, as she observed him, she found that he seemed to have softened a little. His smiles were more open and less sly, and he seemed to be more willing to admit to his emotions. She doubted he’d ever be openly affectionate, but he had accepted the hug she’d given him - and, to Falin, that was more than enough.
And there were new people, of course; so many new people that her head had spun when she was introduced. A whole list of new names she had to learn, and the only two she was certain of when matching faces to them were Yaad and Kabru - and that was only because of how they had stuck around. Still, those two at least had been nice to her, and she liked them well enough.
One of the perhaps less obvious changes, but one that had bothered her nonetheless, was Marcille.
She just seemed… tired. Even when Marcille had explained what she had promised was everything to Falin, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was downplaying just how much this whole experience was affecting her. It was even showing up in physical ways; her eyebags, for one thing, but also her hair.
Her long, glossy, smooth blonde hair, which Falin had envied and admired and loved in turn, was now left to tangle. Marcille never did anything with it, other than occasionally pulling it back into a low ponytail. After years and years of living with Marcille, who usually put her hair in elaborate and new styles every day, accented by her signature red ribbons, it was weird to see her in such disarray. Even with her explanation of why, it bothered Falin.
Which was why she had offered to fix it.
Marcille stared at her, bright green eyes blank with confusion. She gave an owlish blink. “What?”
Falin smiled at her, patting the mattress in front of her. “You heard me! I can do your hair for you. Everyday, if I have to.” Honestly, Falin wasn’t sure what the confusion was about. Marcille had done this for her so many times; what was so wrong about returning the favor?
The elf remained still. “You don’t have to do this, Falin.” Marcille assured her. And now, Falin was a little upset. After all that Marcille - that everyone, but, as her brush with dark magic had proven, especially Marcille - had done for her, she didn’t want Falin to do the same for her, now that she could?
“I want to take care of you.” Falin answered, trying to keep a pout off of her face. “I think it was you who told me that.”
Marcille’s face flushed a pretty pink, and she averted her gaze, seemingly thinking for a moment. Falin kept patting the mattress every few seconds, trying to entice the elf over. Finally, Marcille sighed, meeting her eyes again with a small smile. “Alright.” She said, voice only barely louder than a whisper.
Falin grinned as Marcille came over, scooching back a little as Marcille sat on the bed. She didn’t hesitate before attacking the blonde locks, trying to be thorough, yet gentle. She’d never done this to anyone else before - especially not someone whose hair was so long - but she was sure that she’d learn. After all, she’d braided rope before; why should this be any different?
It proved to be very different, indeed.
Detangling the hair had turned out to be the easy part. It was figuring out what to do with it afterwards that was hard. Since Marcille’s hair was so long, Falin had thought to split it into two braids, but it was hard to make the split even. And hard to keep the hair from slipping over. And hard to split each section into three.
Honestly, Falin was pretty sure that, by the time the ribbons had been tied on each braid, Marcille’s hair had never looked worse. But Falin wasn’t a quitter, so she led the elf over to the full-length mirror that had come with the room in the castle she had been given and hadn’t bothered to get rid of. “I’m sorry - it doesn’t look anything like what you used to do! I had no idea that caring for long hair was so different!”
Marcille simply stared at herself while Falin babbled, but, when the tall-man reached to undo the braids, promising that she’d start over, she held out a hand to stop her. When Falin looked up, she could see a smile on Marcille’s face. “Falin,” Marcille breathed, looking up at her with the biggest grin that she’d seen since she’d come back permanently. “Don’t worry about it. I love it.”
Falin wasn’t sure if she’d heard that right. “You do? Why?”
The elf reached out, gently grasping at her arms, stroking the feathers still present there with a kind of reverence that Falin hadn’t ever seen before. “Because you did it for me, silly.” Marcille answered, and with a start Falin noticed the sheen of tears in her eyes.
After her experience with death - nearly permanent death, not the usual dungeon explorer experience - Falin had a different outlook on life. For one, she wasn’t afraid of hurting Toshiro’s feelings, so she was allowed to turn him down, though she of course made sure that she was respectful about it.
For another, she had a different outlook on mortality. Especially after hearing about Marcille’s desire to have all of the races live for the same amount of time. Falin knew that Marcille would outlive her; in fact, now that she knew that Marcille was a half-elf, she would probably live even longer in a world without Falin. And that would be horrible. But it would also be in the future. Falin was healthy, and she was only in her twenties - even though she knew the decades wouldn’t be as long to Marcille as they were for her, that didn’t mean they didn’t matter. Marcille’s mother had remarried; that didn’t mean she forgot about Marcille’s father.
And so, Falin only hesitated a little before leaning forward and gently pressing her lips against her dearest friend’s.
Marcille made a startled sound against her mouth, but before Falin could panic about having read her wrong, she threw her arms around Falin’s shoulders and kissed back enthusiastically.
Falin had kissed someone before, but really, it had only been out of a mild curiosity - and she had determined that it wasn’t something that she particularly liked. But it was different with Marcille. Sure, it was still awkward, and Falin wasn’t entirely sure of what to do, but Marcille seemed like she wasn’t any more confident than Falin was. Feeling the other woman’s breath against her own, her soft pink lips tasting like the strawberry gloss that she preferred, it felt much different than the fumbling, messy weirdness that she’d previously had.
Marcille was the first one to pull back, though it was only by a small amount. “Falin, I didn’t think that…” She shook her head, a smile quickly spreading across her features. “I wasn’t sure that you felt like that. I wasn’t sure that I felt like that; not for a while. I’m not sure if I can give you… If we can-”
Falin could see that Marcille was starting to freak out a little, so she leaned forward and gave her a quick peck. “I think that we can be happy together. Isn’t that what matters?”
Marcille let out a huff of laughter, her shoulders drooping as she relaxed. “I guess so.”
There wasn’t a lot of talking after that - or, at least, not at that point. Both of them knew that they had to talk things through at some point; that was the nature of all relationships, let alone ones between two different kinds of humanoids. But, for right now, they could just enjoy each other’s company. After all, hadn’t they gone through enough? Hadn’t they earned the right to their happiness?
Falin smiled against Marcille’s lips. They definitely had earned each other, at least.