Feeling the stylist toweling her hair vigorously, Del closed her eyes for a moment, not quite willing yet to look in the mirror and see someone new staring back at her. It had been… what? Two or three months since her encounter with the knight who’d once been part of the Negaverse? And here she was, still stuck, but beginning to take steps. The truth was, part of her still hoped that something would spark and Laurelite would make some grand, sweeping change that would make things better. So they wouldn’t have to corrupt or kill. But the longer she carried that hope, the longer it gave her the chance to see it would never happen. That energy beam during the Hallow fight should have been her biggest clue.

Until this attitude of ‘For the Greater Good’ stopped being a wall they could hide behind, nothing was ever going to change. Which meant that if she wanted to start repairing the cracks in her soul, she was going to have to be the one to make a move to that goal. As much as she might not want to. ********. She felt the towel scrape gently over the back of her neck and sighed. Her a** had long since fallen asleep in the chair. God, first it had been the haircut, then bleaching and now the final color. She still wasn’t going to open her eyes yet, though she smiled when the stylist made satisfied noises. He was a good one, she thought. Meticulous in his work and she’d given him a doozy of a job this time. Not that the colors she’d sported for so many years had been easy, but they’d both gotten used to that particular routine. And now, here she was switching things up. I just need a change, she’d explained. When what she’d meant was I need to alter just enough that I won’t be immediately recognizable. Thus far, her powered forays hadn’t brought her into contact with anyone who could report her. She was grateful for that. But sooner or later, she knew that she’d be questioned. Likely discipline would be attempted. She hoped to avoid all of that. If she could just escape quietly…

“Aight, girlie, take a look and tell me what you think.” The stylist’s words broke through her thoughts and her eyes opened cautiously. Her wet hair, now shorn of its dark sunset color scheme, now sported violently bright candy-ish colors. Blues, purples, pinks, every shade was eye-searing. Or rather, once dry, it would be. The purples would be hidden under the blue. I look like an opal that’s been force fed pixie stix, she thought. All she needed was a bit of glitter and some slouch socks and she’d be some anime nerd’s wet dream.

Her mouth curved into a wide grin of delight. “It’s perfect! So, what’d you do with the shaved patch?” Because, of course she’d chosen to keep part of her head shaved. Undercuts looked good on her. Tilting her head, she reached up to move damp hair. Sure enough, the shaved hair was a bright, electric blue. She’d asked for a trim and examining the hair clinging to her shoulders, her eyes narrowed. No, if she was doing this, she was going all out. “You’re gonna want to kill me, but can we shorten things up more?” she asked. Sure, a shorter ‘do would mean more work for her taming her curls, but the idea of a cute, asymmetrical style appealed to her. The stylist’s only reply was a long-suffering sigh followed by a laugh. He knew her. This sort of ask was simply par for the course. Still, he nodded and went for the scissors before getting to work. Settling back, Del allowed her shoulders to relax. She was in the best of hands and with each snip of the scissors, she felt both physical and emotional weight fall away.

Word Count = 660