Khida listened to Rue’s words of hair and Drykas, spoken slowly and deliberately so that all might understand. Even so, Shahar knew that Khida would likely not view the practice of braiding in the same light that Rue did; Khida was pragmatic in every sense of the word, and braids, to the Drykas, were practiced for something altogether different than practicality. Even Shahar himself had never seriously tended to his hair, save for what was required to keep it clean and manageable, and braiding had never been a deep concern for him. For Khida, even less so.
His bondmate looked at the three ribbons Rue had bestowed upon her, uncertainty flickering between them. This gift was not one Khida was sure how to receive, nor even to use, and she silently asked Shahar for direction.
He felt Rue stiffen and glanced over. The distinct lack of acceptance, nor even recognition, had seen hurt find its way onto her shoulders. Although Shahar was certainly not the most sociable of Drykas, he saw how Khida’s silence could be seen as as a deep offense; Rue had given a gift, not just of the physical but of the unvoiced offer to braid Khida’s hair, and Khida had not accepted either of them. Rue’s pain was almost tangible.
Shahar was caught, Khida’s gaze upon him and her question in his heart. He needed to do… something.
“Khida.” How did he explain this? “Sometimes, I tie my hair back.” Observe. He mimed the motion. Easier. “Braids are like that.” Different, more, last longer. Also, feel-good, pleasant, intimate. “Close people,” friends, family, “braid hair.” Feel good give, feel good receive. What was he even trying to say? Braids were not at all things he was familiar with, but the braids themselves weren’t the point; Rue had quite clearly been injured by Khida’s lack of acceptance, and disharmony was poised to follow. All Shahar cared about doing was eliminating that disharmony, because it would spell ill for it to fall between Rue and Khida, and he did his best to convey a sense of importance across the bond.
You and Rue, he said, gesturing to each of them. You are close family-friend. Rue wishes to… be close physically, “braid your hair.” He hovered on the edge of more, but then let his hands fall; he had said all he could think of to explain the situation.
His bondmate looked at the three ribbons Rue had bestowed upon her, uncertainty flickering between them. This gift was not one Khida was sure how to receive, nor even to use, and she silently asked Shahar for direction.
He felt Rue stiffen and glanced over. The distinct lack of acceptance, nor even recognition, had seen hurt find its way onto her shoulders. Although Shahar was certainly not the most sociable of Drykas, he saw how Khida’s silence could be seen as as a deep offense; Rue had given a gift, not just of the physical but of the unvoiced offer to braid Khida’s hair, and Khida had not accepted either of them. Rue’s pain was almost tangible.
Shahar was caught, Khida’s gaze upon him and her question in his heart. He needed to do… something.
“Khida.” How did he explain this? “Sometimes, I tie my hair back.” Observe. He mimed the motion. Easier. “Braids are like that.” Different, more, last longer. Also, feel-good, pleasant, intimate. “Close people,” friends, family, “braid hair.” Feel good give, feel good receive. What was he even trying to say? Braids were not at all things he was familiar with, but the braids themselves weren’t the point; Rue had quite clearly been injured by Khida’s lack of acceptance, and disharmony was poised to follow. All Shahar cared about doing was eliminating that disharmony, because it would spell ill for it to fall between Rue and Khida, and he did his best to convey a sense of importance across the bond.
You and Rue, he said, gesturing to each of them. You are close family-friend. Rue wishes to… be close physically, “braid your hair.” He hovered on the edge of more, but then let his hands fall; he had said all he could think of to explain the situation.
