Prompt: Wuya combing chases hair cause he can't get the knots out himself. (Submitted by anonymous on tumblr.)
Wuya's incredibly busy — meaning that she's doing little more than lounging about Chase Young's lair and tending to her nails under the annoyingly sharp gaze of the warrior's feline warriors — when she receives the summons to come to his chambers immediately. Which she pointedly ignores, of course, because even if she is, for all intents and purposes, little more than his live-in prisoner (which obviously wouldn't be the case if she still had her formidable powers) Wuya has never been summoned anywhere, nor will she ever allow herself to be, and it's with pointed delight that she ignores the large panther sent to escort her and instead saunters to Chase's private rooms at her own leisurely pace.
It's most certainly worth it, Wuya decides, when she pushes open the door to Chase's dressing room (she still finds it strange that the great Chase Young would include a dressing room at all in the floor plans for his lair, let alone one this lavish and opulent) to find the mighty warlord sitting at the large vanity with his expression set in its usual scowl as he tries — and very clearly fails — to drag an ivory and boar-bristle brush through the tangles of his long, dark mane of hair. Wuya leans against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest, lips curved in an almost feral smirk as she watches Chase, and it doesn't take long for him to notice her reflection in the mirror and narrow his eyes in turn.
"Not a word about this to anymore," he tells her darkly. He does not turn around.
But Wuya is not so easily swayed. She approaches him, but stops just behind him. "And what's in it for me?" she asks, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "You know how I work better than anyone."
Chase clenches his jaw, and Wuya's amusement at his predicament increases tenfold. He snaps his fingers, and the cats standing guard at the doors to his dressing room leave, the large door swinging shut after them seconds later.
"It's a start," Wuya says as she reaches for the brush caught in his hair. "We can work out the knots later." She laughs at her little joke as she slowly works the brush free; Chase does little more than snarl in irritation, though he says nothing to counter her statement, and Wuya supposes that it's a start, at the very least.