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Summary
"Weren't you the one who would call me a crybaby over silly little things like this?”
Scissors primed, she dove in, clamping the blades around the thick bundle of keratin.
“I’d trip over a branch and hurt myself, and you’d tease me for wailing like a baby over it!”
Even with the edges so wondrously sharp, it still took some effort to sever the fibers between them.
“Which was, like, fair. I was weak back then. A weak, scared, helpless little crybaby, who couldn’t do anything for herself.”
Snip. Snip. Snip.
“... But, do you know something, Kris?”
Not a single bang remained, each and every strand lay butchered in Kris’ lap, a sight Noelle viewed with great pride.
“I’m STRONG now.”