The sun blazed, enveloping the world below in heat. On a balcony outside the Vistarion Palace, two Spriggans lay in the sun, one resting her head on the other's lap.
"Marie..." Brandish groaned and stretched her body across the concrete. "The heat is making me sleepy..."
Dimaria smirked. "Doesn't everything make you sleepy, Randi?"
"Hmm..." Too tired to search for a comeback, she rolled over onto her side. Brandish stared at the cloudless sky through the railings of the balcony, shifting into a more comfortable position. "...I want to sleep."
A slim hand ran through her hair, tousling the sheet of pale green. Dimaria chuckled as Brandish gave a small whining sound, trying to brush her hair back into place.
"Well, what's stopping you from going to sleep?"
Brandish rolled onto her back and looked up thoughtfully at Dimaria. She narrowed her eyes. "Last time I went to sleep with you nearby, you cut my hair."
"...I was sixteen."
"Most people know better by that age."
"Well, it was eleven years ago now."
"Yes, but how do I know I can trust you?"
Dimaria hesitated, thinking over the question. "I don't have any scissors at the moment."
Brandish simply stared at her.
"If you want to sleep, you can go ahead. I won't cut your hair this time."
"...Do you promise?"
Dimaria rolled her eyes. "I promise."
Smiling, Brandish closed her eyes and drifted into unconsciousness.
