Spoiler through Chapter 3
Agnès is so used to sleeping peacefully, curled up on the little cot in her room, her hair carefully braided by one of the acolytes before they all retire to bed, that she's at a bit of loss now.
She has so much of it, four hands are practically a requirement to do anything beyond the basic brushing and awkward ponytails, and she finds herself frustrated to the point of tears the first time she wakes up with her hair in complete tangles and sticking up every which way when the ponytail holder finally snaps in the middle of her restless sleep.
Ringabel, fashion minded and ever conscious of his companions' hair, is the one to notice first.
"Do you need a hand?" He asks the quiet Vestal as she plucks tiredly at a fistful of tangled, brunette hair with her brush.
"No, I can do this," she insists, but as another snaggle catches and she flinches, he deftly takes the brush from her anyway.
"I'll be gentle," he promises, and his is certainly a more careful and methodical hand than her own, separating her long locks into sections before slowly combing out the tangles. She tenses for a few moments, expecting him to make some lewd comment, but some reason, either because he's tired or because he's concentrating, he doesn't. Instead, the time passes by quickly, and she's surprised when he announces that he's done. She had just started to daydream, thinking of the crystals, the temple, the acolytes that would usually help her with this…
"That's it?" She asks over her shoulder, taking the brush back from him.
"That's it, my lady." He winks, and that lecherous man has come back. "I would be more than happy to brush your hair again, of course. And if you need some assistance in keeping it tame at night, I would be glad—"
"Unacceptable!" She cuts him off with a flush and glare.
He finishes his sentence with a smile. "-to help you braid your hair back."
Oh. Agnès' flush deepens. "I… thank you for the offer, but I will be fine."
She will just need to get a stronger ponytail holder.
That next one lasts for about a month, but in the aftermath of Olivia's death and the painful, awkward trip to Eisenberg that follows, Agnès' sleep and hands are so restless that it snaps one night as she prepares for bed, leaving a tiny welt on her wrist.
She stares at it.
"Huh?" Edea asks from across the room as she tugs her nightshirt down over her tummy. She'd heard the snapping. "You okay, Agnès?"
"I'm fine. No need to concern yourself," Agnès replies automatically. Defensively. She's gotten used enough to handling her hair by herself, and doesn't need help! But as she turns away to rummage through her little pack for a ribbon, perhaps, she hears the other girl make her way over anyway.
"Oh, did your hair band snap? I've got an extra."
"That' quite alright, I—"
Edea ignores her, and Agnès quiets at the feeling of the other girl's hand running through her scalp. "Just for tonight? It's getting late."
That, at least, is true. "Very well…" Agnès agrees, though she knows she can't used to this. She really cannot get used to sitting in front of Edea as the other girl runs a brush gently through her hair, and begins to braid it down.
"Your hair is so nice and lovely, I wish I could have grown out mine like this," Edea says quietly as she makes sure to get the tangles at the nape of the vestal's neck.
"It has taken a long time," Agnès admits. Her hair is the one vanity she's afforded herself.
"My father took years to grow his out as well, I've heard," Edea replies, more to herself. "I think yours might still be a little longer…"
Though Agnès is somewhat curious at the idea of a man with hair as long as her own, the mention of Edea's father, *Grand Marshal of the Duchy of Eternia* just sours her mood, and she clenches her hands in the fabric of her nightgown. Edea too, seems to realize that she's brought up a sore subject, and her hands quicken their pace as though she's eager to get this over with.
Agnès is about to ask her to leave when she recognizes the motions of her hair being braided. "What are you…"
"Braids are more efficient for long hair than ponytails if you're trying to keep it neat," Edea replies, giggling. "That's what I was always taught." And maybe she'd learned how to braid hair by practicing on her father and master's longer locks.
And maybe she can't help but put a few flourishes into the braid, starting from the top and gradually adding more hair as she works her way down. Agnès just has so much hair, she thinks, as she finally reaches the girl's midback, and she has to move back to finish with Agnès leaning slightly forward. So jealous of it, nice and long and thick and sooo pretty.
Edea ties it off with an extra ribbon.
"There!" She declares. The Vestal pulls her hair over her shoulder to touch the braid, and she notices how tight and neat it is, unlike any of the braids she'd had put in her hair before.
"Thank you." Agnès says, still running her fingers over it.
"Uh-huh!" Edea smiles at her, a little cautiously, as she pulls her own mane of hair up into a loose bun for sleeping purposes. Otherwise she's liable to get it into her mouth. "I'll braid your hair any time you need it."
"I will… keep that in mind." The help is appreciated, but Agnès reminds herself again that she can't keep this girl's company very much longer. Still, she carefully returns the smile as the two finish up getting ready for bed.
The braid is so tight that it holds throughout the night, even with the ribbon slips off at some point, and Agnès finds that in the morning all she needs to do is unweave it. A brush runs easily through from top to bottom, and Edea next uses the ribbon to make a high ponytail - the better to keep it off her neck in this humid weather.
Still wary of Edea, Agnès doesn't allow her to assist anymore. Once they reach Hartschild, she finds a full package of military grade hair ties, and keeps at least one on her person at all times.
Of course, once the Fire Crystal is awakened, Edea is the one who loops Agnès' hair up into a bun to help with the sweltering heat of the magma they cross.
Tiz finds her resting in her room later that day as Edea and Ringabel stay up late eating snacks and chatting with Egil. Agnès had excused herself to bed early, but he doubts she's really asleep. And he's right.
"Are you okay?" He asks as he carefully closes the door behind him, so that they could have some privacy.
"I'm fine," she insists, running her hands through her hair now that it's been taken down out of the bun.
"Here, why don't I help?" He picks up the brush from the dresser before she can reply, and he sits behind her on the bed. She waits patiently for him to begin, hands in her lap.
Unlike Edea and Ringabel, Tiz doesn't have that much experience with brushing hair and his strokes are not as graceful or gentle as he starts from the bottom and begins to work his way up.
Agnès smiles anyway, even when the brush snags on a tangle or two. He works just as carefully as the others, but long, silky straight human hair is different from the wool on a sheep. Had he ever brushed sheep's wool? She giggles at the thought.
Tiz pauses. "Sorry," he says, an embarrassed laugh in his voice. "I'm really not very good at this."
"Oh no," Agnès says, shaking her head though she knows she shouldn't, not if someone's brushing it. She needs to keep still, after all. "You're fine, Tiz. I was just thinking to myself." She presses her hands to her mouth so that he doesn't get interrupted by her again.
The two of them fall silent now as Tiz continues, brushing out small sections of hair one at a time. Though he's not the most gentle, he's the most thorough, continuing even when it seems to be completely untangled, and Agnès finds her eyes falling closed as she counts out the brush strokes from top to bottom. 100… 101…
Once he seems to be finished, he pauses, eyes falling to the hair tie sitting beside them. He had seen Agnès with her hair in a braid in the early morning before. Perhaps he could try to braid it himself?
He's just gathered up three sections of hair when Agnès shifts slightly and nearly falls right over. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind, he opens his mouth to ask her if she's all right and…
Agnès has fallen into a light doze, lulled by the gentle caresses to her scalp and down her hair. He flushes hotly for a moment before he realizes, and carefully moves her onto the bed a little more properly - he can't let her sleep sitting up, that'll be bad for her neck.
"Hmm?" She whines softly under her breath when he tucks her into the bed.
"Goodnight, Agnès." He replies, and when she rolls slightly away from him so that she can curl up on her side, he leans over and… picks up her hair again, running the brush through it one more time before braiding it- as though he were braiding a length of rope - and tucking it over her shoulder, out of the way of her shifting form. Then, it's to tuck Agnès herself into bed, making sure the blankets are snug around her form, and he dims the lights as he leaves.
In her sleep, Agnès clutches the braid in her hands and smiles.