Dahlia Hawthorne asks for one last request before her execution.
"Let my sister wash my hair," she says, promptly. The guards stare at her, puzzled, but the pleading look on her face causes them to figure that it can't be much harm and send out a wagon to Hazakura Temple requesting Iris Fey's presence immediately. Sister Bikini is convinced that Iris is being arrested, but Iris knows and gently pats her on the shoulder before sitting down in the police wagon and watching her home disappear in the rearview mirror.
Iris thinks that Dahlia is the only person in the world who could make a grey prison gown look like a princess's garb. Her sister is standing at the gates of the detention center, flanked by two official looking men most likely holding back the dangerous criminal. It's all Iris can do not to fling herself into Dahlia's arms and sob.
"Prison guards are surprisingly easy to manipulate," Dahlia says cheerfully as they're lead to the one decent bathroom in the prison.
"D-Dahlia, there's one right-"
Dahlia cuts her off, laughing her mirthless, mocking laugh. "Iris, I'm going to die, they don't care." Somehow that makes Iris feel inferior, as though there's a joke she doesn't get somewhere.
The bathtub is one of the old ones with little golden feet poking out to hold it up, and Dahlia's shampoos are all in a row on the window ledge above it. Iris guesses that Dahlia must frequent this place, because it smells like her and she walks in it as though she owns it.
Iris turns on the hot water and Dahlia undresses and sits down in the tub, her back to Iris and her long, red hair half-hanging out. They've done this a hundred times, Iris knows the routine practically by heart. She gently pulls apart the crown of braids on the top of Dahlia's head and reaches for the shampoo Dahlia loves because it smells like dahlia flowers (Iris remembers her remarking "It's me in a bottle!" when they were teenagers) but Dahlia pulls her hand back.
"Use this one." She puts a white bottle into Iris's hands.
The water is flecked with little black things, and the bathroom floor is slick with water when Iris kneels and pours a pitcher of water over her sister's head. She reaches for one strand of hair and begins to lather it with shampoo, her hands moving rhythmically across Dahlia's scalp. She doesn't have to look to know that Dahlia is looking as content as a cat being petted.
That's when she sees it.
Her hands are stained bright red the moment she rubs the shampoo in Dahlia's hair. "Dahlia, you're bleeding! O-oh, god, what have I-it's on my clothes, Dahlia-"
Dahlia laughs, again making Iris feel like she's missed the joke. "Oh, Iris, you poor, clueless girl. Take a look at the label on the shampoo bottle, will you?" Iris does, and in small, green lettering it says Color Removal Shampoo.
"Y-You're…" Iris stares at the now black ends of her sister's hair.
"Keep going. Get all of it out." Iris has no choice but to follow her command, humming a song she swore her mother used to sing when they were little as her hands get even more stained with the bright, scarlet dye from Dahlia's hair. The red dye is on her soaked robes and a bit of even flecks her face when she glances into the mirror above the bathroom sink.
Iris pours another pitcher of water onto Dahlia's head, and the hair before her eyes is raven-colored. When she walked in her sister's skin for six months (Iris prefers not think about this) her hair had always been darker than Dahlia's natural color, not that Feenie noticed. Now it's the exact same shade.
The blowdryer makes an awful noise when Iris points it Dahlia and hands her her clothes. She takes the soft, clean strands and braids them into the same braids on her own head. Dahlia's dyed hair always felt sticky to her when she touched it, but this feels soft and cool in her fingers.
They stand next to each other in the mirror, Iris in her soaked and stained nun's robes, and Dahlia in her prison gown. Dahlia finally breaks the silence. "If I'm going to die, I'd might as well die without that horrendous chemical in my hair."
That statement pushes Iris over the edge and before she knows what she's doing she throws herself at Dahlia and sobs into her dark hair, taking in the familiar scent of her sister that's the only thing she really has left of a family. "You're really going to…" Her words sound choked and she doesn't feel her mouth moving as she says them.
"Don't be dense, Iris. Remember the plan. We'll see each other again." Dahlia smiles deviously, as though this is just some big game, and Iris has never wanted to hit someone so much in her life. But she continues to cry in her sister's arms, because no matter how much Dahlia plays for the fool and uses her she loves her and she hates it.
"You know, I really ought to hate you," she rasps out, her eyes stinging.
"But you don't," Dahlia says sweetly, and plants a kiss on Iris's forehead. "If you'd like to watch them wring my neck, I'll make sure to wink at you before all my breath runs out."
"How can you be so…" Iris can't finish the sentence for the life of her, because Dahlia is indescribable.
"Cheery? Well, it's because I know I'll see you again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a hanging to attend." She pushes Iris out of her embrace and stalks out the door, her heels clicking on the tiles of the bathroom floor as she leaves Iris shivering from the water on her clothes.
Iris tries every faucet in Hazakura temple, but the red stains on her skin don't disappear for a whole month.
i always liked the idea of dahlia dyeing her hair to disguise herself because literally everyone else in her family has black hair so the red hair seemed out of place. bridge to the turnabout left a huuuge impact on me so i just had to write something.
