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“What…are you doing?”
“Washing my hair,” Zisys says, looking over to where Liara watches her curiously. Virmire is covered in water, so it is only a matter of finding a little puddle of it- and testing to make sure she’s not about to wash her hair with human-munching microbes- and setting up her little shampoo station. Kirrahe had given them two hours till assault, which pisses Zisys off. She wants Saren dead and this whole ordeal over with, but her wants are currently on Kirrahe’s schedule.
Anyway, her hair feels like tacky gum and smells like metal, and she wonders how Ashley gets away with washing her hair so little when she complains how quickly it gets oily.
And Zisys has always wanted to wash her hair with alien water. Just to say she did.
“Can’t go into battle grimy,” she offers when Liara only looks more confused at the notion.
“I’ve wanted to ask more about your grooming habits, but I thought it impolite.” Liara comes closer to where Zisys squats, taking care not to step on her clothing; she’d stripped down to her athletic bra once she was convinced she wouldn’t get some skin rash from being an alien to this place. The water feels fine, it even feels crisper than regular water, and her shampoo suds up the way she likes, soap tinged light, faded pink and smelling like passion fruit. Nice shampoo actually starts to smell bizarre when she goes too long between washes, especially when she has to wash and lotion up with the standard space fare once her stash runs out.
She opens the bottle and inhales fruity goodness; today, the smell of the soap is a welcome one. She doesn’t even mind that some of it slides down her back and arms as she piles all of her hair atop her head, scrubbing down to her scalp, or that most of the salarian soldiers give her funny looks as she rinses it all away with cold water.
Liara’s hand darts out to swish the suds around in the puddle; Zisys has no clue if it’ll bother her skin or not, but she’s not the scientist.
“How often do you do this?” The asari considers the bubbles on the tip of her finger.
“Hair needs to be washed…well, it depends on the texture. And it’d probably be confusing to explain how my hair is different than Ashley’s or Kaidan’s. My hair is also chemically treated twice over, so I have to take extra special care with it.” Which I don’t, she adds silently, towel-drying her tresses, not like I should. It doesn’t feel any worse for wear; her hair sticks to her ribs, the ends only a bit frayed. Another trim in a week or so, if she gets through this run.
Kill a shit ton of geth and other ne’er-do-wells, crack Saren in the fucking jaw, and then she can trim her hair a quarter of an inch. An even trade-off.
Liara watches intently as Zisys rubs the ends of her hair between her fingers, jumping when Tali plops down beside her; Tali has seen this ritual once before already, and fiddles with the jar of coconut oil until Zisys beckons for her to toss it over. For whatever reason, Tali wants the jar once it’s empty. She wants to keep the Spectrum-brand wrapping on it as well and won’t tell Zisys why, which is odd for the forthcoming quarian.
“This we can eat…well, you can’t. You all would get sick, but it’s oil from a fruit. Shit, I think coconut’s a fruit. Anyway, it’s good for our skin, hair, guts…all of it.” She opens the jar and dips her fingers in. It is warm enough on Virmire that the oil is nice and liquid; she coats her fingers and begins combing it through, at home in the midst of the earthy, sweet smell. Coconut isn’t as jarring a scent, seeing as she uses this more often.
The faint boom of a far-off explosion turns all heads west. Zisys combs faster, a bit carelessly, pulling at tangles and smoothing her hair simultaneously. She grabs her brush and lays it all down, eyes on Kirrahe has he moves around his camp. He doesn’t seem rushed, but it is quite hard to tell with salarians. They’re already quick, a little high strung: half a click ahead at least, already on the next exhale.
Zisys watches the captain until her eye falls on Wrex, who holds her gaze for just a moment before turning back to whatever Garrus is saying to him. She frowns, taking her final tool, a rat-tail comb, and swiftly parting her hair down the middle. She’s done this so many times now that a mirror seems redundant.
“Wrex isn’t sorry, but he’s glad that he did not have to shoot you,” Liara says quietly, following her gaze.
That sounds about like Wrex. “How do you figure?”
“I asked him specifically.” She leans into Zisys as if it’s a big secret, and Zisys sits back, snorting.
“I’m surprised he said anything to you at all.”
“Oh, he threatened me if I didn’t leave him alone, but he also wanted the message to be relayed. He knows you want nothing to do with him right now.”
Zisys shrugs, looking back over at Wrex only to be met with his back. Garrus looks her way, but his attention is focused on the krogan and it’s almost as if he looks through her. She can only imagine what they’re talking about in the aftermath of hers and Wrex’s confrontation. Garrus and Wrex don’t like each other, wouldn’t like each other even if Zisys wasn’t somehow figured into the equation, but neither of them seem too keen on drawing weapons on the other.
“You know, I don’t like getting guns pointed at me by people I consider friends, but I get it. I totally get it. This genophage cure could save his people. But damn it, he could have trusted me a little more,” Zisys mutters, wringing out both halves of her hair one last time. Zisys knows her team like the back of her hand by now, and so she had her gun out in the same breath Wrex pulled his. The reflex had shocked her not because it’d been seamless, but because she’d had to use it at all.
Goddammit, Wrex. We had a good thing going.
She’d been afraid because she knows how Wrex fights and it would have been an absolute shit show. She’d have had to kill him if he hadn’t killed her first.
But she can deal with that later, not like the feelings of betrayal were going anywhere.
“Tali, come practice your braiding.” Zisys waves Tali closer and hands her one side of her hair. Even behind her helmet, the quarian looks uneasy.
“What if it’s ugly?”
“Oh, it’s gonna be hideous,” Zisys laughs, “but I’m in this for the long haul. By the time I need someone to help me with a proper goddess braid, you’ll be more than ready.
“A what?”
“Just braid, boo,” Zisys snickers, tying off the end of her braid by the time Tali is only partway through the other. Liara is smiling now, watching Tali mutter at her braid and apologize when she pulls too hard on Zisys’s scalp. But it’s all part of the practice and if truth be told, it doesn’t hurt that bad. She just like fucking with the kid.
The result is too loose in some places and too tight in others, but Zisys ties the end off anyway with a yellow rubber band; it is more than good enough for the way she’s going to stuff her hair under a fitted cap and jam her helmet on. Oh, she has tried leaving her hair loose and that whole thing, tried pulling off her helmet to shake her tresses free like the women soldiers in those horrible movies. In reality, though, hair likes to get caught in helmets, likes to mat and tangle and leaves you with worse problems than how sexy you look post-battle.
No one has time for all that. And no one looks sexy post-battle. Everyone’s sweaty and blotchy, bruised and irritated.
“And that’s the end of the show,” Zisys says cheerily, standing and stretching her legs. She wipes droplets from her arms and stomach and squeezes her braids to get rid of any excess water. Her bra is soaked through, but she always brings a spare. If she’s lucky there’s still enough time that it’ll dry out on its own.
“That’s quite a process,” Liara says, combs gathered in her hands. She takes one and drags its teeth over her wrist as she speaks.
“Yeah, you all should count your blessings that you don’t have hair… well, I’m actually not sure if Tali has hair under there,” Zisys cuts her eyes, smirking.
Tali shrugs, cheeky. “Couldn’t say.”
The two of them follow her back to their squad’s small tent; Kaidan and Ashley sit on opposite sides of it, dozing until they register that it’s Zisys come through the entrance and not…the other small, black woman with rude-red hair.
She can’t help by snicker as they jump to attention; both look child-like with sleep in their eyes.
“Commander!”
“Calm down, y’all.” Both soldiers are too stalwart sometimes, they take all this too seriously in the quiet moments. There’ll be more than enough time to be strict once Kirrahe gives that signal. “You’ll get an ulcer. Though, maybe a full-blown nap isn’t what you want right now. The chances of you getting woke up smack in the middle are high, and I don’t need groggy soldiers.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kaidan is hopeless, his eyes glued to the ground so they won’t be stuck on her bare skin.
“Sorry, Alenko. I’m putting on a shirt.”
“No, ma’am, it’s just-”
“-Relax, Kaidan. Its fine,” Zisys laughs, tossing a knowing look over to Ashley. She pulls her shirt over her head, shivering as cold hair dampens along the back. “Everything smooth on our end?”
“Smooth as can be, skipper,” Ashley nods, leaning back against her seat. She’d been smart and washed her hair on the way to Virmire. Once Zisys is off the ship, though, she likes to stay off. Keeps everything separate.
She nods. “Good. Soon as Kirrahe gets his shit together, we go in and we go hard. I’m tired of hearing Saren’s name, and I’m tired of chasing his bum ass around the galaxy.” She falls into an empty seat next to Ashley, sighing. “So let’s make this run count for something other than my weekly dose of near-fatal cardio.”
Everyone chuckles at that, Tali and Liara settling as well. It’s not often they get to rest a bit on the ground; it feels too often like they drop, run, and Joker’s there to scoop them up right after. But this is the same ground she’s going to be killing on soon, and in a strange way it’s nice to rest on it, first. It’s also nice to only be partway in command; let Kirrahe’s high-strung ass deal with the particulars and give her a run through once he’s ready. She has her squad, and they’re ready for whatever.
“Your hair smells really good.” Ashley brushes her shoulder, but her eyes are closed. “I always think so, but I never say anything. Don’t know why.”
“I agree. I can smell it from here,” Kaidan says.
“Thanks. I will put you both on to coconut oil but you can’ tell any of your white friends, and only after we’re done here.” Zisys smiles when the other woman scoffs.
“Alright, then.”
“You have to explain white friends, Shepard,” Tali says, dozing. “You never want them to know anything.”
“Later, boo.”
And so they don’t take a full nap. Not a full one, but someone ends up snoring a little, and someone nudges them awake, and they all laugh as if they aren’t an hour out from one of the bigger battles of this god-forsaken mission.
In the quiet, Zisys feels her heart swell for her strange crew. She’s gonna get them through this -all of them, even Wrex- so help her.
And even as she swears it, she knows she can’t keep her word. Never fall into that trap.
“Yall are the cream of the fucking crop,” she says aloud.
“Aw, getting sentimental without me?” Garrus’s voice filters in, warping and jovial. Zisys opens her eyes to see him peeking through the tent’s opening, gun in his hand. He never does set that gun down.
“Clearly not. You always show up, Vakarian.” She nods at him.
“Gotta keep you on your toes, Commander.” He tilts his head, and she can see his smile.
Fuck it. Maybe she can’t keep her word, but she can try her damnedest.