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Once again, Lup brought up a hand to tangle it in the short, curly hair just above her shoulders, sighing at the image in the mirror. “Why did I think it was a good idea to get a haircut a week before we left?” she groaned. “It was growing out so nicely last cycle!”
“This is literally not a problem,” complained Taako, draped upside-down on the bed behind her and flipping through a book. Either it wasn’t very good or he was getting sick of her grousing, because he looked supremely bored. “Just use Alter Self or something, it’s not that big a deal.”
“It’s not the same!” she protested. “I swear, it feels fake.”
“Disguise Self?” he suggested next, as he had the last several times they’d had this discussion.
“Even worse, then you can’t feel it at all. And besides…” she started, looking at Taako’s image in the mirror with a sly grin.
His brow furrowed. “I swear to god, if you say spell slots—”
“Spell slots.” Lup finished innocently, stifling her laughter as Taako brought the book down to bury his face with a loud “UGH.” Turning around, she moved to flop onto the bed beside him, similarly upside-down. After a moment, Taako pulled the book away from his face to level an annoyed glare at Lup’s gleeful face, both of them now locked in a silent staring contest. Taako’s lip only twitched once as he fought to maintain his stern demeanor, and Lup was very proud of him.
After a long enough time, she was starting to get the impression that he wanted her to work for it. “Well, if you don’t care about spell slots—”
“I don’t, we’re literally doing nothing today.”
“—And since you’re probably the best transmutation wizard this plane’s ever seen—”
“Not sure I love the ‘probably,’ given that my competition on this plane is literally no one, but okay.”
“—Then surely you wouldn’t mind doing the spell for me?” Lup punctuated this with her best puppy-dog eyes.
Taako’s eyes narrowed in response. “Hmm. What’s the magic word?”
“I think you’re supposed to say the magic words, that’s how spells work, goofus.” For all her efforts she got a flick on the arm. “Okay, okay. Please,” she added, laughing.
“Fine, sit up,” commanded Taako, who was finally unable to hide the fond smile on his face. “You’re awful, you know that?”
“I do, I’m very proud of it.” By this point in their lives, she had no need to add that she would do his next hair cut or color for him, free of charge. All the same, as she felt her hair start to lengthen and spill over her shoulders, she said, “Thanks. Next one’s on me.”
“Natch.”
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It wasn’t that her magically enhanced hair was bad, per se. It certainly looked great. But despite that, there was something about it that just felt off to Lup in a way that had nothing to do with Taako’s handiwork. In fact, that was usually why she bugged him into doing it—he had a knack for texture that she never quite managed, minimizing any discomfort. All his careful arcana could only go so far, though, and Lup was convinced that if the two of them couldn’t cast well enough to avoid whatever sensory issue it was causing, then it just couldn’t be done. There was nothing for it but to wait a week or two and get used to it.
In the meantime, though? It felt like an invasion. Cloying, plasticky tendrils of hair cascaded down her back, curling against her and feeling like a separate entity. There was always this irrational fear Lup had that she’d touch it and come away with her fingers oily, though numerous tests in the past had proven that to be false… but what if it was different if she grabbed at it again five minutes later? The worst part by far was the scent, or rather, the lack thereof. It smelled almost sterile in a way that made her cringe, the new hair not yet taken with the scent of her shampoo. Actually, it didn’t need to smell like her shampoo, it just needed to smell like hair so that the alarm bells in her head didn’t start blaring “FAKE” every time she turned her head. In short, it felt the way Fantasy Splenda tasted.
All of this and more (the “more” being plaintive cries of “why, why didn’t I realize I’d be trapped in a year-long time loop a week after my haircut and just kept it long so I didn’t have to do this every single year?”) Lup thought about as she sat on a bar stool and laid herself over the kitchen counter. Across from her, Merle and Barry were cleaning up. A rule had been implemented early on that whoever cooked the meal shouldn’t have to clean up from it, but she still enjoyed keeping whoever it was on cleanup duty company.
A throat cleared from further back in the kitchen, and Lup raised her head up from the chill of the counter to meet Barry’s somewhat nervous gaze. “I like the new hair,” he offered, making a vague swooping gesture with his finger near his own shoulder. “Well, I guess it’s sorta the old hair, but either way, it looks nice.”
“Aw, thanks!” she beamed, holding back a laugh at his awkward expression. Poor guy was trying so hard, she had to cut him some slack.
Merle, meanwhile, just quietly squinted at her hair. “...Did you dye it?” he asked tentatively.
Lup and Barry both turned to stare at him.
“...Cut it?” Merle tried instead, looking genuinely at a loss for what could be different.
“Merle, it was shoulder-length this morning,” Lup answered, mildly bemused.
He shrugged. “I don’t pay attention to that sorta stuff!” Fair enough. “How’d you grow it out so fast, then?”
“Transmutation. It was Taako’s spell, though. I’m just the model,” she preened, running a hand through the length of her hair and holding it out proudly. A moment later, she let it drop and instinctively shook out her hand with an “eugh.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Barry, who seemed awfully perceptive for someone on the other side of the room.
“Ah, it’s nothing. I just have some sensory issues with spell-based hair growth. I’ll be over it in a week, no problemo.”
Barry nodded sagely. “Same here with conjured food—no offense to you and Taako, though, I know you’ve had to get creative on some of these planes. And you do great, it’s not even any different than normal! Still, it just gives me the creeps.”
Lup threw her hands forward excitedly. “Exactly! Thank you! Taako never quite gets what I mean by that. Finally, I meet another sane person,” she declared, grinning when Barry laughed.
It almost slipped her attention when Merle suggested, “Why not just grow it out?” but the absurdity of the question broke through. Perhaps it was time to start testing the air on this world to check if it had any ill effects on dwarves. A quick look at Barry confirmed he was beginning to worry about the same thing.
“...Probably because we don’t have that kinda time, Pipes,” Lup answered, quirking an eyebrow at him.
Merle just shook his head. “Pan no, not the slow way. I mean, y’know, magically. Instead of lengthening the hair, actually grow it out.”
“Transmutation doesn’t really work like that, I’m sorry to say. It more so stretches and pulls and, well, transmutes the original stuff, like Fantasy Play-Doh. Actual growth is out of the wheelhouse.”
“I can do it,” Merle answered simply. “I didn’t get this beautiful mane from genetics alone, you know.” Barry and Lup just looked at him blankly. “Wow, I thought for sure you guys could do spells like that!” Merle exclaimed.
“I guess it’s sorta like making a plant grow,” Barry mused in the background.
By now, Lup was leaning forward over the counter, eyes shining. “What’s your rate, man of Pan?”
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Lup sat with her back to Merle, who was perched on a chair in order to actually reach the top of her head. With a wave, Merle dispelled the magic currently lengthening her hair, and Lup startled a little at the sudden removal of weight. Already, she felt ambivalent about the loss, relieved to be free of the texture but disappointed at how short it felt all over again. More than anything, she really, really hoped Merle knew what he was doing.
“Let’s see here…” he muttered, which was not helping. Merle threaded his fingers through her hair and across her scalp, then lightly bunched up several locks of her hair between his fingers. She tensed, but his touch remained gentle, merely letting the hair rest on top of his fingertips. Every so often, he moved his hands again to a new spot, seemingly without reason.
It had been almost a minute, and it didn’t seem like anything was changing. Just when Lup was starting to think this had been a waste of time, she felt something tickle the base of her neck. Instinctively, she brought a hand up to investigate and found a small curl resting there, undeniably further down from where it had started. Perhaps “resting” was the wrong word; even as she watched, the curl slowly but surely snaked its way across her fingers and downwards.
“Wow. Where have you been my whole life?” she asked, half-joking.
“Odds are either the beach or Pan Camp. Is this something you’ve put up with a lot, then?”
“Sort of. I usually just grow it out the long way, but Taako and I tend to change up our looks pretty often.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
Lup gave a sharp laugh at what she had assumed to be sarcasm, but stopped when Merle made a questioning noise. “Oh, you were serious.”
“Yes, I was serious, why wouldn’t I be?” Merle questioned, almost offended, and Lup started laughing again.
“Only because Taako dyed his hair about twenty different times last cycle. You actually never noticed?”
“Eh, it’s all the same to me. You youngin’s and your fashion statements,” he jabbed, leaning forward so Lup could catch his grin.
“Y’know what? Good for you. You’re basically immune to trends, it’s impressive.” Lup hugged her knees to her chest, humming slightly. “I’m sure that’s, like, some sort of wise old cleric thing. You see people for their inner souls, not what’s on the outside,” she decided, shaking her fist dramatically.
“That, or I’m just oblivious,” he grunted with amusement.
“Or you’re just oblivious,” she laughed.
By now, her hair was brushing against the middle of her back, a little over halfway to its original length. Out of curiosity Lup picked up a stray lock. The dyed blonde of her hair, which usually extended through the whole length when transmutation was at play, now only reached the first several inches before tapering off into her natural dark brown.
“You two ever try to match each other?” Merle questioned, continuing to card his fingers through her hair, now only starting at the scalp before gently running along her hair for a few inches, then returning to the skin at a different location. It was surprisingly soothing, and Lup found herself leaning into the touch.
“Oh, no. We left that behind as kids.” Lup tilted her head slightly. “Well, maybe just for special occasions. Costume parties, usually. Sometimes a birthday. Apart from that, the Venn diagram of our favorite looks don’t have a ton of overlap.” She gave a pleased hum. “Are you sure you don’t want to try being a hairdresser one of these cycles, Merle? It seems like you have a knack for it. It’s almost—” Lup cut herself off quickly, biting her lip to stop the words from escaping.
“Almost what?” Merle questioned, unable to see Lup’s face cringing out of existence.
“Almost nothing,” she blurted, heat rushing to her face. “Anyway, have you ever noticed—”
“Nuh-uh, not so fast,” Merle stopped her, his curiosity now turned to mischievousness as he leaned over to look at her. “What is it ‘almost’ like? I’d love the feedback for when I get my hair salon up and running.”
“I already told you, it’s nothing!”
“‘Nothing’ is making your face go red like that?”
“The extra hair is warm, that’s all.”
“Don’t make me roll for this, Lup. I’ll warn you, Heart is my best stat.”
One of her ears twitched the way it always did when she had been caught, and she wrung her hands together from their place in front of her knees. At long last, Lup gave up and sighed. “Fine.”
“Oh thank Pan, I was not confident in how that roll was gonna go.”
“...I was gonna say it’s almost… paternal. Y’know, fatherly. Dad-ish. Anyways, if you could smite me now, that’d be great.”
For a moment, Merle was silent, and his hands stilled in her hair. Curiosity overwhelming her, Lup turned to look at him, and he was just smiling at her fondly, warmth in his eyes. Somehow, that was the worst result. She glanced away. “You getting sappy on me?” he accused, but the tone was all sentimentality.
“Hardly,” she scoffed. “Besides, it sounds like you’re doing a good enough job of that yourself over there.”
“I’ve been more known for tree pollen than sap, if you know what I—”
“No, gross, stop that immediately,” she demanded as Merle chuckled. “We’re trying to have a moment here.” Unbidden, a smile grew on her face at the exchange.
As the mirth subsided, Lup picked at her fingernails for a moment while weighing whether or not she should continue. “The thing is,” she started, feeling more casual than the topic probably deserved, “Taako and I never really had anything like that when we were growing up. Closest we got was our aunt, and it’s not like that was permanent.” As she talked, Merle had silently resumed his work. “So… this is nice.”
“I’ve thought about kids,” Merle commented, and Lup thanked every god she knew that they weren’t about to go through the awkward formalities of pity. “Thought my life was too hectic for them… and that I was too flighty. I suppose I didn’t want to put any kid through what you and Taako went through.” Lup nodded, blinking rapidly at the sudden pressure in her eyes. “Guess I’ve lost my chance now. No point starting a family when the Hunger’s breathing down our necks every year, huh?”
“For what it’s worth, I think you made the right call. Don’t get me wrong, being locked out of it now sucks, but it’s probably better that you didn’t have any kids, in hindsight.”
“Oh yeah, definitely. And, for what it’s worth to you? I’m not going anywhere. Can’t! You’re stuck with me kid, and sadly for you, I don’t plan on quitting the hairdressing business anytime soon.”
Against her best wishes, a single salty tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek, and Lup wiped it off as fast as she could. “Thanks,” she said thickly, right as Merle pulled his hands out of her hair at last and gave her a rough pat on the shoulder, kindly waiting as Lup scrubbed at her face. “You tell anyone this happened, you’re toast,” Lup threatened weakly, gesturing vaguely at her demeanor.
“I figured.”
“No, really. I know you’ll be back in a year, I can get away with it.” The two laughed as Lup finished shaking off the rest of her woes.
“Ready to leave your review?” he asked once she was done, gesturing to a nearby mirror. Even knowing how it must have looked, Lup was still taken aback when she got there and saw full, curly hair reaching down to her hips. Unconsciously, almost reverently, her hand reached up to stroke it, happily surprised when she didn’t recoil from the texture. It felt real. As she had noticed earlier, its previous gold now only colored the ends, which actually made for quite a nice gradient. Merle must not have been sure of where to stop, since it was actually a good few inches longer than it had grown last cycle, but an overestimate was preferable anyways.
Lup reached up to her neck and carefully sectioned off a lock from the rest, still too new to have tangled. As she ran her hand down it she reveled in the sensation, which she usually only got just a couple months a year. “It’s… perfect.” She turned to Merle, gaze softening. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, kiddo.”
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A hundred years later, Merle has a daughter, and her little hands are still too clumsy by half to even make a ponytail. Whenever he brushes or braids Mavis’ hair, the movement feels natural, practiced. He isn’t sure why; this is the first time he’s done this for another person.