>>There's mending for my soul
Who; Jill Valentine and Thomas Raith
What; Hair business. :| AKA Jill's latest gesture of "SCREW YOU, WESKER >|"
Where; Essence
When; Wednesday afternoon
Rating; T
Status; Closed and finished
Jill actually wasn't the salon type.
She certainly appreciated fashion both on the job and off, but her hair had never been a big source of her attention. In her line of work, it was better to be practical than vain, which was why she'd just kept it short and out of the way for years. Even after discovering the color change that occurred during cryostasis, she hadn't thought much of it; it was ugly, yes, and reminded her a bit too much of the one responsible, but she wasn't that anal. After the last few nights, though, her apathy had taken a bitter turn.
Nightmares were one thing; realistic ones were another; waking with familiar cuts and bruises was just too much. Wesker haunted enough of her life, consciously and unconsciously, without the bizarre and intrusive help of this place. By the fifth day of the nightmare ordeal, Jill had felt as sickly and exhausted as she had when leaving Kijuju with Chris and the others. The bruises would stay for a while longer -- the scars forever -- but she could at least alter something, as small as it was.
At least it'd be one less reminder every time she looked in the mirror.
Thomas' salon wasn't hard to find; Jill had passed it while out previously, but this was the first time she actually stopped to look at it, let alone enter. She'd only been to a place like it once in her life, so she was impressed by this one, considering the circumstances and what little she'd figured the owner had had to work with. After a cursory glance about the room, her attention turned to looking for a sign of life.
"Anyone here?" she called.
What; Hair business. :| AKA Jill's latest gesture of "SCREW YOU, WESKER >|"
Where; Essence
When; Wednesday afternoon
Rating; T
Status; Closed and finished
Jill actually wasn't the salon type.
She certainly appreciated fashion both on the job and off, but her hair had never been a big source of her attention. In her line of work, it was better to be practical than vain, which was why she'd just kept it short and out of the way for years. Even after discovering the color change that occurred during cryostasis, she hadn't thought much of it; it was ugly, yes, and reminded her a bit too much of the one responsible, but she wasn't that anal. After the last few nights, though, her apathy had taken a bitter turn.
Nightmares were one thing; realistic ones were another; waking with familiar cuts and bruises was just too much. Wesker haunted enough of her life, consciously and unconsciously, without the bizarre and intrusive help of this place. By the fifth day of the nightmare ordeal, Jill had felt as sickly and exhausted as she had when leaving Kijuju with Chris and the others. The bruises would stay for a while longer -- the scars forever -- but she could at least alter something, as small as it was.
At least it'd be one less reminder every time she looked in the mirror.
Thomas' salon wasn't hard to find; Jill had passed it while out previously, but this was the first time she actually stopped to look at it, let alone enter. She'd only been to a place like it once in her life, so she was impressed by this one, considering the circumstances and what little she'd figured the owner had had to work with. After a cursory glance about the room, her attention turned to looking for a sign of life.
"Anyone here?" she called.