His overall instability was rising weekly, maybe daily, and it showed no signs of slowing. Daemonifying more soldiers regularly was only exacerbating matters as he drowned out his own identity in those of his victims. At the very least, Ardyn no longer swung wildly between horror and indifferent mirth. Rare were the days where he felt anything but voracious spite and wry amusement.
Impulses, however, were as frequent as ever. How else would have ended up in front of a mirror and cutting his hair to discard the last of his former self—once he killed Regis as well, of course. The compliant Ardyn of old would never seize control of Lucis and kill her false king, and it was only appropriate to look the part for his planned regicide.
The door to Verstael's room hissed open as Ardyn hummed a wandering tune and snipped, admiring his work in progress. Not quite even, but easier on the eyes already. "I have come to detest seeing my former self in every reflection," he offered in lieu of a greeting, regardless of not belonging in this room to begin with. Ardyn enjoyed his little taunts for his benefactor and suspected Verstael did as well. "I am not the man I once was."
"I should say not. You are better," he emphasized, tossing his cloak on the end of the bed. He moved to stand behind Ardyn and rested a gloved hand on the back of the seat while the other was extended palm up beside him. He had fine hands, a perfect mix of steady and elegant that lent themselves to the vocation he'd chosen. Clad in black, they had an air of promise and menace Ardyn indulged in. "Though long hair suits you, and you are terrible with a pair of scissors. Allow me to assist you," he said as more of a command than a request, but he was inclined to comply regardless.
Smirking over his shoulder, Ardyn withheld the scissors and tapped the flat of them lightly against himself. Verstael was a sinister man who drew no line he would not then cross, but he was unashamed of it. He was exactly as he made himself out to be, and there was no deceit to be found in his actions. Ardyn could trust him to be exactly what he presented himself to be. And after Somnus' unrepentant betrayal and his growing doubts of Aera's integrity that he may never assuage, was that not a relief? Chuckling, Ardyn handed over the scissors gladly. "If you insist. What's the worst that could come to pass? It is not as though you could kill me."
Verstael closed his hand around the scissors with a laugh and set about separating out his hair for easier cutting. "After all a treasure such as yourself has done for my research? Even if I could, I would never."
Holding a strand of hair between two fingers, Verstael slid his hand down his hair in a bizarrely soothing gesture and met Ardyn's gaze in the mirror. "Cutting it in layers would enhance your natural traits, I believe."
"Whatever looks becoming on me to you suits me perfectly," he teased, almost purring that last word.
Blue eyes lingered on him in their reflection for another beat or two of silence. Examining him for some scientific finding or another, perhaps... And then he began cutting away long wisps of hair, all falling away like burdens of bonds and obligations long since dead and decayed. Yes, this change would represent the liberated harbinger of hard-earned demise that Ardyn had been honed into. Both by the cruelty of the gods and the honest, ugly ambitions of one rather fetching man.
