Chapter 1
March 4, 2025 at 10:52 PM
Rook stood in front of the large mirror, pinching a section of her hair between her pointer and middle finger. With the other hand, she picked up the scissors from the dressing table and carefully started cutting a straight line. When the last strands of hair fell on the floor, she let her hair fall back. She swiped all her hair back and turned to assess the result; the newly trimmed section was shorter than the one she'd cut before. Groaning Rook returned to the later section, planning to fix the mess (or, likely, make a bigger mess).
Felassan laughed behind her and made his way to the struggling mage, ignoring the glare she shot at him. He stopped right in front of her and instantly snatched the scissors from her.
"I'll take those before you make a bigger mess," Felassan said, grinning at Rook’s protest. "Unless you’re trying out a new style," he tilted his head in amusement.
Rook looked at him with a straight face, hands on the hips. "And what if I do?"
"Are you? Well, I'm eager to see the result," Felassan teased.
Rook huffed and attempted to take back her scissors. "Give those back!"
"Nope," Felassan said with amusement and used his magic to raise them up to the ceiling.
Rook glared at him; she liked Felassan, but sometimes, she had a strong desire to strangle him. It wasn't unusual for them to tease each other, but more than often, they worked together to give a hard time to Solas. Often enough, for Rook to forget that the tattooed elf had quite a smart mouth. So did she, though; one of the many reasons they got along so well.
And that smirk, which often played on his lips, never helped to ease her irritation. It was even more annoying than the one Solas had, though she wanted to wipe out the latter not less than the former. And right now, that desire was at its peak. Just close the distance and… crash her lips against his. Rook groaned internally; it didn't help that the elf was pretty. And those lips were so tempting–
Felassan scrutinized her while she was lost in thoughts before saying."Turn around."
Rook got pulled out of her thoughts and raised both of her eyebrows, blinking a few times, not sure whether she heard him correctly. His sudden request sure threw her off balance.
"Turn around, da'len," Felassan said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Or I'll make sure to notify Solas that you're “trying out a new style”, so he won't miss out on the fun."
Rook huffed. "Blackmail? That's low even for you."
Felassan's lips quirked into a smile. "I'm waiting."
Rook stared at him for a moment longer, but ultimately decided to comply. Satisfied with her obedience, Felassan pulled the scissors back to him; he wanted to tease her about it, but chose not to. Instead, he leaned forward and purposefully reached out to the comb on the dressing table. He could use magic for it, and it would be objectively easier for him, but that way, he wouldn't be able to get closer to her.
Rook tried to ignore his proximity, his breath ghosting against her cheek, his hand on her shoulder, and his sly grin she saw clearly in the mirror. She inhaled deeply to take her feelings under control as Fepassan started combing through her still damp hair.
"So Dread Wolf's famous general also moonlights as a hairdresser?" Rook decided to tease him, breaking the silence.
Felassan huffs in amusement. "Who do you think does Solas’ hair?" He moved his hand back to her shoulder to urge her to straighten her posture and threatened playfully, "Now don't move, or I'll bind you with magic."
"Let me guess you've learned it while doing Solas’ hair," Rook said with amusement, standing still as she was told to.
"You can say so. He can't stay still sometimes," Felassan said with amusement. "So, how do you want it?"
"Mid-back," Rook looked at him through the mirror as he hummed in acknowledgment.
Felassan's brows furrowed in concentration as he bent down and took a deep breath before he started carefully cutting her hair. His movements were slow and precise, his hands steady, though his mind was more preoccupied with a sweet scent invading his nostrils. He was close enough to wrap his arms around her. Or push her against the dressing table and see how soon they would get caught by some maid coming in here.
Rook, meanwhile, kept her eyes on him through the mirror. She couldn't see his face anymore, but it was still hard to look anywhere else. Not that there was anything else interesting in the room, but even if there was, she'd rather have her eyes on him. She felt her cheeks grow warm, her thoughts going somewhere she'd rather them not to in the moment.
When Felassan trimmed the last section and fixed the last strays, he straightened to assess his work. He ran his fingers through her hair, absent-mindedly he brushed them against the back of her neck. He looked at her through the mirror, their eyes meeting. Felassan immediately looked away, taking a step back.
He cleared his throat, cheeks dusted light pink. "It is done."
Rook cleared her throat as well and said somewhat awkwardly, blushing as well. "I could have done it myself," then she continued genuinely grateful, though still avoiding looking at him , "but thanks anyway."
An awkward silence ensued as Felassan went to set a comb and the scissors back where they belonged. And Rook concentrated on checking her trimmed hair. She noticed Felassan looking back at her and composed herself, turning her attention to him.
"Soooo... How about putting salt in Solas’ tea?" She suggested, trying to sound casual like she didn't just dream of tearing his clothes off.
Felassan snickered, amused by the idea, and internally grateful she chose to shift the attention elsewhere. "Sounds interesting." They'll deal with that tension sometime later. Probably…
