He has. He just isn't sure he ever wanted to know how deep.
Everything about this place is an irony, perhaps for them especially. To go from being needed to being hated, useful to relatively useless and even dangerous, from generally well-to-do to sleeping on hard spring mattresses, favorite meals to barely enough, and even then--
--Even then this place is kinder to them than the Order ever has been.
Is this what they call blasphemy?
He lets his hand drop slightly, fingertips grazing the edges of her hair and returning to his lap.
"Yours is shorter." Comparatively, to what he last remembers of her. This one or otherwise. "..I haven't had reason to cut it."
There'd be no need to pull it up into a bun if he did, but the change is too drastic. This way, it still feels like the day he crawled out of that pond.
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Everything about this place is an irony, perhaps for them especially. To go from being needed to being hated, useful to relatively useless and even dangerous, from generally well-to-do to sleeping on hard spring mattresses, favorite meals to barely enough, and even then--
--Even then this place is kinder to them than the Order ever has been.
Is this what they call blasphemy?
He lets his hand drop slightly, fingertips grazing the edges of her hair and returning to his lap.
"Yours is shorter." Comparatively, to what he last remembers of her. This one or otherwise. "..I haven't had reason to cut it."
There'd be no need to pull it up into a bun if he did, but the change is too drastic. This way, it still feels like the day he crawled out of that pond.