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Right, Caduceus decides, this has gotten out of hand.
He curls a lock of tangled pink hair around a finger, and meanders back over to the group. “Is anyone good at cutting hair?” he asks, and may as well be asking for the secrets to the universe itself from the way a few of them stop what they’re doing to look at him. He flicks an ear, and twists that piece of hair a little tighter. He should have done this sooner.
“Caduceus!” Jester exclaims. “You’re cutting your hair?? I didn’t think you’d ever cut your hair.”
“Well, I’m not cutting it. I’m terrible at that.” He’d tried, once. He had been glad Calliope hadn’t been there to see it. “But if someone else is better at that, I’d appreciate it.”
“Your hair is so pretty, though,” Jester fusses.
“Thanks.” He runs his fingers through it, catching on the tangles and mats and streaks of white all the way to his roots. Travel has not been kind, and he had never left his home long enough to realize how much of a hassle long hair could be. “But that’s a bit untrue.” If there was ever a time to avoid the trouble of it, it is now, in this place, as they go to face their death.
He does not expect to come back from this place, so he won’t miss a few inches of hair. And if by some miracle they do come back, well, he will have an earned lifetime to grow it long again.
Jester’s face screws up like she’s tasted something particularly bitter. “Well, we’re just in a shitty place, y’know? If we had time, we could make it look real good.”
We don’t have time, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t need to. Instead, he just smiles thinly and tries to comb out some tangles. “It’s just not convenient right now, I don’t think.”
“Tell me about it,” Beau laments, tugging at the length of her hair. “I want a haircut so damn bad. I hate the awkward in-between stage.”
“I like it,” Yasha says, unsurprisingly, and Beauregard rolls her eyes, and grins.
“Yeah, babe, I know.”
“I guess I can’t understand,” Jester pipes up again. “Mine’s never been longer than this, so I guess I don’t really know. But it makes me sad for you to cut it if you like it long, Caduceus.”
“It’s been through a lot.” He gives up on the tangles. “I’ve been through a lot,” he clarifies, and nods. “It’s time for a change, if possible.”
“Caleb is good at cutting hair,” Veth says, and Caduceus looks over to where the wizards have been poring over books together. “He’s done it a lot.”
Essek gently taps Caleb’s arm, drawing him away from their books; Caleb looks up quickly and asks, “was? Sorry. I was– elsewhere. What is up?”
Caduceus gestures. “Are you any good at haircuts? I’d like it shorter before our battle with Lucien.”
“Oh.” Caleb looks thoughtful, and then nods. “Ja. It’s been a while, but I always cut my own hair. I, erm, could? If you’d like.”
“Please.”
“I, er, can’t make any promises–”
“You’ll be fine.”
“You’re putting a lot of trust in my hands,” Caleb says playfully, and folds his hands in his lap. “Did you want me to do this now, or–”
“Yes, please.” He wanders over to Caleb and Essek, gesturing questioningly to the ground. “If you’re willing.”
“Ja.” Caleb nods, and Caduceus folds to sit down in front of him. “I need a, uh, ah. It’ll probably be a bit choppy if I’m using a knife.”
“That’s fine. That’s good. That’s new.” And it cannot possibly be worse than any of his attempts, he doesn’t say. He trusts Caleb, and he does seem at least marginally familiar with tending to long hair. “As long as it’s shorter.”
“Sure. I can do that. Give me a minute.”
Caduceus agrees, head bobbing in acknowledgement.
“Does someone have a dagger? A sharp one? Unless someone miraculously has clippers that aren’t ruined to shit.”
“I have a knife,” Essek says. “If you need…?”
Caduceus looks over his shoulder at him, the curiosity in his eyes and the short cut of his own hair. “You’re used to that,” he remarks, and taps his own hair. “Keeping it short.”
“Oh… yes,” Essek replies. “I had to keep a certain appearance for court, but I couldn’t handle it any longer even if I wanted to,” he admits. “I appreciate longer hair,” he says, and Caduceus wonders if he thinks he is being subtle when his eyes flick towards Caleb again. “But managing it?” Essek shakes his head. “I’ll probably keep it short for a very long while.”
“That’s fair.” Caduceus watches Essek hand over a dagger to Caleb when he returns, and then looks back ahead to present Caleb with full access to his hair. “We’ll see which I like best,” he says, and settles in for the long haul.
It’s been a long time since he’s had a haircut. Long, long before he had joined up with the Mighty Nein. Even long before his faith had started to waver in the face of being the last Clay left in the Blooming Grove. He can still remember the long nights of falling asleep outside of the temple in his quest for answers and waking up to moss and foliage both tangled into his clothes and fur and hair. And since the Nein, the most he’s had is a touch up to the sides. But that hadn’t been a haircut, and it had long since grown out too far, anyway.
It’s time, he tells himself. He reminds himself. It is time.
He closes his eyes, and attempts to relax as Caleb starts to brush out his hair. It’s a bit of a rough go at first, product of everything they’ve been through in the past few uncertain weeks. The bristles catch painfully at the worst of the knots, and he hears Caleb murmur unhappily more than once. But it becomes a smoother transition, an easy descent instead of a struggle. Eventually, Caleb is able to glide his fingers through without a hitch, top to bottom, and Caduceus hums in contentment as he does. “That’s nice.”
“Agreed.” Caleb, too, hums a happy noise, almost a laugh. It sounds fond, maybe reminiscing. “I almost forgot how nice it could be to have someone’s hands in your hair. Soothing.”
“That’s a word,” he agrees. “It’s been a very long time, but my sisters used to do that sort of thing to me. It was nice. It felt like… comfort.” He tries to remember, but that sounds right. Caleb’s fingers brushing his hair now feels the same.
“I feel like it means someone cares for you,” Caleb says. “It is, ah, marginally an intimate thing. And, like I said, does require some trust.”
“It does. And it is,” Caduceus agrees. He considers, and flicks his gaze over to where Essek is still sitting cross-legged with the books, surreptitiously sneaking glances as Caleb works. Huh. Caduceus looks back ahead. “I’m sure there’s plenty of people here who wouldn’t mind doing that for you. Fingers in your hair.” He hears a page turn. “You could always ask.”
“Ja, maybe.” He scratches lightly at his scalp, almost a teasing thing, and pulls his hand away. “Maybe something to ask for after we are free of end times,” he says, and starts rummaging.
“I think you could probably ask for it now,” he counters, but it’s a gentle thing. Halfhearted. Caleb has his reasons, as much as the rest of them. And, Caduceus knows, Caleb probably still believes he doesn’t deserve that kind of thing, somewhere deep down. So this isn’t entirely his business. But it is a nice feeling, and they deserve nice things, so he says it. He says it so Caleb can take another step towards believing it.
“But then what will I have to look forward when we come back from all this?” Now he is definitely teasing, in the moment before he rests his hand on Caduceus’s shoulder, and reaches around to raise his chin slightly. “In the meantime… I’ll need you to hold still for a little while longer.”
“Sure.” He nods. “Oops. Now.” He looks straight ahead, back ramrod straight. “Starting now.”
Caleb chuckles, and carefully gets to work.
He does have a point, though, Caleb. Caduceus very much likes the feeling of fingers in his hair. Adjusting, combing, braiding… those are nice things. He supposes that maybe they are intimate, but mostly, yeah, it feels like care. It is nice to have someone take care of you. He had sorely taken that for granted for many, many years.
His mind wanders, as he lets Caleb work.
“You with me, Cad?”
Caduceus opens his eyes, lifting his chin a half centimetre before he remembers he isn’t supposed to be moving. “Oof– yeah. Sorry. My mind was wandering.” He thinks he might have been meditating, a little. No harm done, but it’s only now as he comes back to the present and himself that he notices the shift; he feels endlessly lighter than he had folding to the ground here, and is very aware of the lack of hair winding spirals down his back. Oh, oh. An ear swivels, and he tries to look over his shoulder without moving his head. “Is this a happy interruption, or a bad one?”
“Depends on if you like it or not. You’ll have to tell me if you want it shorter.” Caleb touches his shoulder lightly, which he assumes is the all-clear for being able to move, especially as a small hand mirror is handed over to him. “It is, ah, pretty choppy, but–”
Caduceus doesn’t even need to look in the mirror before he can tell the difference. It’s stark, the absence, and feels like half the weight is gone from his shoulders. It’s a silly notion, but it feels true. He turns his head to accept the mirror and feels the swish of the new haircut around his face, unfamiliar and oddly exciting. He doesn’t need to look in the mirror to know this had been a very much needed change.
Still, he does, look in the mirror, that is. The person that looks back at him isn’t the same as the person who had been looking back not two hours ago, when they’d made camp. It absolutely isn’t the same person he had seen in the mirror before he had left home. And that… that is a very good thing.
He doesn’t think the cut matters as much as the change does, and physical appearances have always tended to fly over his head, but it doesn’t stop him from turning his head this way and that. Mostly to feel the way his hair moves now, free and uninhibited, but also to take in Caleb’s handiwork. Sure, it’s a bit messy, and would probably need touching up in the future that they don’t have, but it’s miles better than he could have ever managed and he’s incredibly happy with the result.
“That looks great,” he says out loud, and runs his fingers through it. A few stray clippings fall away. He brushes them impatiently from his coat. “Much better than I could have done.”
“Yeah?” Caleb fidgets with the knife. “I can– do whatever else you want. If you want?” he starts, but Caduceus interrupts, shaking his head.
“No, no, this is good. This is great?” He nods, again, just to feel the bounce of short hair. “I really like it. Thanks.”
“Awww, Caduceus!” Jester rounds up around Caleb’s back, resting her hands on his shoulders to lean in. “That looks so good! I mean, I really liked your long hair but this is really cute on you!”
“Thanks.” He pauses, and thinks for a moment. “Oh. Is this the ‘your hair is cute’ mean thing and you’re too nice to tell me?”
Caleb barely stifles a laugh.
“No!” She sticks her tongue out. “I know you and I like you, I wouldn’t lie to you. Plus, you know, I actually did like Astrid’s hair back then, but I just thought she was going to be a bitch so I was being rude. No offense,” she says down to Caleb, squeezing his shoulders.
“Ja. Still none taken, Jester.”
“But, no, I really do like it,” she continues, straightening up. “It looks really nice with your beard, too.”
“Oh.” He laughs, tracing his hand along the almost as messy beard he’s been sporting. Mostly begrudgingly. “Well, I don’t like that, either, actually.”
“No?”
“Not particularly, no. But.” He puffs out a breath, even though it can’t turn to fog here in the dome. “It’s cold, and I like my face to not be as cold. So this one is staying.”
Jester purses her lips in a pout. “That’s not fair. The guys get extra protection against the wind and our chins are freezing.”
“Maybe you should grow a beard,” Caleb comments with that twinkle in his eye, nudging her knee.
Beyond them, Fjord laughs so loud he chokes on something. Caduceus worries for only a minute before he decides that he’s fine.
“Don’t laugh!” Jester calls. “I know you love me the way I am! And I still get to wear cute dresses and coats and not have to take my bits out to pee, so– there, Fjord!”
“Yep. Trust me, I know.”
“I like it,” Jester says down to Caduceus, again, “and I’m happy you like it!”
He smiles as she meanders away over to Fjord, undoubtedly to start another ‘heated’ discussion as she cuddles into his embrace. Some things didn’t change, and that was good, too. He looks away from them, and back at Caleb. “I do like it,” he adds. “Really, thanks a lot. Let me know if there’s anything you need that I can do?”
Caleb shakes his head. “Nein. I’ll just consider it payment for all the times you’ve kept me alive.” He smiles, wry. “And for all the trouble you’ll have keeping me alive soon enough, too. Now, ah, speaking of cold bits–” He grimaces, and hands the dagger back over to Essek. “Back in a moment, you two.”
“Oh– of course.”
“We’ll be here.”
Essek glances from the dagger in hand to Caduceus, bright eyes flicking around the newest development amongst them. “For what it’s worth, I like it, too,” he says, and turns to put the dagger away again.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Caduceus nods. (Again. He can’t help it. It’s nice.) “He’s good. Lifetimes better than me. I’m a wreck with that stuff.” He glances over to where Caleb’s back is to them, precariously skirting the edge of the dome. “Life experience and all.”
“Oh.” Essek laughs slightly, in a way that is more deprecating than the rest of them. But they’re used to this. Essek is not. “I don’t know. We’re certainly gathering life experience here.”
“That’s true,” Caduceus allows. “Wow. And still more to come.” He rests his hands in his lap and considers. “Still things to look forward to when we come back.” He borrows Caleb’s phrase on purpose. He isn’t sure if they believe he believes they aren’t coming back, but Essek wants– needs– the optimism. He needs to hear it, so Caduceus wants to say it. With Caleb’s words specifically.
“Yes…” Essek murmurs. “Maybe so.”
He looks back at the tome sat on his lap as Caleb wanders back over, muttering in Zemnian, and Caduceus lingers on that vision he’d had of the Wildmother withering away. He doesn’t want to. But he does. Every day. He won’t forget it as long as he lives, however long that will be.
In the meantime… he is going to afford Caleb and Essek their time to themselves. Whatever is left of it, everyone here should be enjoying it with the people they love. That’s what’s important. That’s what’s nice.
“I’m going to make some tea,” he announces, as Caleb settles back in with his fellow wizard and their books. “Thank you again, Caleb.” He touches lightly at his hair. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem.” Caleb smiles, still anxious and exhausted but… content. As content as they can get right now, anyway. “Really.”
Caduceus nods. “Sure. But, still.”
He goes to make that tea, then, lingering by the kettle until it’s nice and hot, and he has all of their mugs prepared and ready. Then, one by one, he takes a cup around to each of them, lingering to share a few words about his new haircut and the like. The warmth in his chest doesn’t come from the tea, though. It doesn’t come from the compliments, and it certainly doesn’t come from the inevitability of what’s to come. But it’s there, anyway, as he takes tea around cup by cup, and shares in conversation with his friends in this otherwise awful place.
Maybe he’s missing out on a lot of life experiences, true. But this right here, right here, is just enough for him all the same.