Chapter Text
His feet dragged as he entered an empty room, the large door closing soundly behind him. The tall man walked directly to a chair and slumped himself on it.
Peace, at last. Well, not entirely though.
There was still a war going on, a war that he, as Head Angel, must take action upon. Etihw, despite their godly abilities, apparently has no interest in giving a hand other than healing grave injuries for their soldiers just to be thrown back in battle once more. Sometimes, when he has a small amount of leisure time, he gazes up at the clear, grayish sky and think of how ridiculous this must be. How there might be a chance that they are all but a mere puppet show for Etihw to enjoy.
Although, Wodahs tries not to think of it much; there are still lives that depend on him.
Although, he secretly wishes that Etihw would just demolish this entire world out of boredom and recreate it into whatever they want it to be. As long as he's not part of it.
As long as he doesn't have to witness all of….this.
"Yo, Head Dumbass," an all too familiar voice boomed accompanied by the loud sound of the door slamming open.
Wodahs, who had just started drifting to sleep in a very uncomfortable position, looked up (or rather directly, considering her height) at the culprit with tired, yet stern eyes. "
Alela Grora," he acknowledged the angel woman now standing before him. She looked straight at him, knowing all too well she had just disturbed him as he used her full name in a venomous tone. Yet, she stood silently for a few seconds, her mouth a straight line and her dark eyes read no clear emotion.
She wasn't sure why, but bothering the Head Angel seemed like first instinct to her.
Grora cut the never ending staring contest by lifting her hand up to Wodahs' , revealing a pair of sterling silver scissors which she snipped twice. "Hair cut," she explained simply.
"No." and he turned around.
"Huh? C'mon now! I looked everywhere for you just for a flipping trim and just refuse?" her stoic composure started to fall "Hey now," she places her hand on the back of the chair and leans closer to her superior, who ignored her.
"…I did Sherbet's and even Rigotana's, and they didn't complain one bit," her voice was much softer now, encouraging the stubborn angel to accept her offer. Really now, who would straight up say no to that? She does have the choice to not touch anyone's damned hair, but she was feeling nice today after everyone's hard work during today's battle. Besides, with that collar of his and his long fringe, his face could no longer be seen.
After a few moments of more silence, she let a defeated sigh and tempted to leave, only to have her sleeve tugged by none other than Wodahs. "…Make it quick," her colleague orders, and for an unexplainable reason, she felt light, almost…happy.
She nods her head, though she wasn't sure if he saw her or not, since he didn't even face her so she said "Sure thing," which came out oddly high.
Wodahs proceeded to take off his uniform top and place it on the table, leaving him in a simple black shirt. Then he moves his chair to the center of the room, and Grora positions herself behind him and pulls out a comb.
"Don't worry, I'm good enough at this," she reassures as she begins brushing his mane. There wasn't much talking, except Grora's silly mutters of how his hair doesn't get as tangled as hers, all while Wodahs sat there quietly, spacing out as he usually does when there's nothing for him to do.
She dampens his hair a little before she proceeds to trim. The man was left with the soft tapping of Grora's heels and the snipping of the scissors. Despite his disability of facing her right now, he could imagine her furrowing her eyebrows and sticking out her tongue in concentration.
The snipping sound got louder-- much closer to his ear, and even though the cold metal touched his skin, he did not flinch. It seemed that Grora was more stressed than he was for she sighed. Possibly relieved she didn't cut off his ear.
He closed his eyes while she worked on his other side, actually enjoying himself. He only cracked one eye when he felt her in front of him.
"I'm… going to cut your bangs," she said, uncertain whether she truly needed his consent now, and he shrugged.
He shut his eyes once more and let her do her work. Needing to work more closely, she put her knee on the seat's edge and allowed herself to lean forward. He felt her breath on his face as her fingers fumble with his mane. Then the only sounds clouding his ears were her soft breaths and the faint brushing noise, but mostly the small sounds she made as she was finishing her task.
It somewhat made him tense, but Wodahs as usual kept quiet, not wanting to disturb her.
All was, somewhat, fine until Grora squeaks and falls rather harshly on Wodahs' chest, making the chair tilt backwards and fall with both of them. She must've lost balance and slipped, considering the position she was in.
Nothing grave happened, especially when Wodahs mostly hit his back and instinctively wrapped his arms around Grora, and the scissors had fallen out of her hand. She shot up first, red-faced and avoided his gaze as she mumbled an apology.
They got up wordlessly and Grora finished the job rather quickly (and carefully) this time. She brushed the gray hairs from her dress as Wodahs took a look in the mirror. She did a surprisingly good job, and it was nice to see his face again. He was so consumed by his work to take care of himself properly.
"Hm. See, told ya I'm decent at it," she said as though she had read his thoughts. She places her hands on her hips and poses as though prideful, but her peer doesn't even turn around, so she gives up and makes her way to the exit. She too is pretty tired.
"Grora," he calls after her, and she turns right before she twists the handle.
"…Thank you," he manages to say. It's incredibly nice to have someone to think about your well-being, he believes. To have someone…care about you.
And that's how Grora is. Caring. Although she soaks in Etihw's stoic personality, she remains thoughtful.
The petite woman turns back, attempting to hide her face and waves her hand "'t's nothing. Really. You were just looking horrible."
And with that, she leaves, leaving Wodahs wondering if she could be kind enough to trim his hair again when he needs it. He would've offered to do hers, but he's afraid he might ruin her pretty dark locks.