story_sleach_2_1

...Are all these people here to see me bear the standard? I'd better not slip up...

No, I need to triple-check after all.

Banner's brand new, no wrinkles, good. My clothes are prim and tidy, good. And my saber and boots... Alright, all polished clean, that's fine too.

Oh, right, my hair too! Oh, good, good, it's still neat.

The wind was gusting so hard just now... I wouldn't want to mess it up right here, not when I spent all of yesterday treating my hair. That would've been such a waste.

Now begins the flag-raising ceremony! All units, attention!

Phew...

Flag, forth!

Marching through the square, she feels the gaze of every soul in the crowd concentrate on her, and straightens her back even higher in response.

Hooking the ensign to the halyard, pinching a corner of the flag, she begins to await the signal.

Three, two, one, and the sound of drums finally quells. Quickly she throws the fly to the air, allowing it to unfurl in the wind of the morn. Thereupon, she hears applause behind her last and last.

Taking a deep breath, she pulls her posture tighter, straighter, but cannot help but let a smile slip from the corner of her mouth.

Wil, that's seven crates of pharmaceuticals total, all here.

Thank you so much for running this trip, Janie... but it's funny, we paid for twelve at the caravan.

No, I know... they turned their entire hold upside down looking, but this seven's all they found, none more than that. And, well... they're not wanting to refund you the surplus money.

But didn't we get the price settled all early this morning?

They lost a lot of freight coming here cutting through a combat zone, so they're insisting on ratcheting their prices up to cover the damages.

But, Janie, we don't have much funds left.

Have resupplies from the landship still not made it?

No... We haven't even had an update on them for the longest while now. Janie, you know, with all the turmoil at Londinium, you don't think the landship got...

Wil, stay with me. You said it yourself, times are turbulent. Odds are something's just held them up.

So, then... what do we do now?

It's best we keep the patients' needs put first. Having these seven crates is better than none, and no matter how expensive, we've got no choice but to accept. Anything else... we'll have to make what savings we can.

We can't just save our way out of this forever... All we've got left in the basement's some sprouting potatoes.

I'll keep thinking of what I can once we get back this evening. It's almost time I saw Mrs. Sheila—her chimney's blocked, I need to take a look at that.

Do that. I'll head back to the office for now, then.

Miss Saileach, Miss Saileach!

Mrs. Sheila, what did you come out here for? Your health is... Let me help you back in.

The wind's going so hard today, best we take a seat inside. You were off leaving the moment you pulled out of the chimney—I didn't even get the chance to thank you proper.

Oh, it's—it's alright, I can't really stay long, there's people sick at the office.

Weather's been nipping lately—are you and Wil bundling up well enough? I've got a few dresses here you two could wear—they're getting on a bit, I know, but they're good nice ones.

Thank you, I appreciate it, Mrs. Sheila. Still, Vouivre don't catch colds that easily.

Ah! None of that, you can still wear it even if it's not to keep warm. Your clothes right now are getting to be patchwork with those repairs, and I've never seen you wear a thing else. Don't you go anywhere, now, I'll run back in and fetch them for you...

R—Really, it's fine! I'll be out of your hair as soon as, Miss!

(Hushed) Da, look at that lady, her hair's so pretty...

(Hushed) Pah. Cloistered, that's what you call types like her. Can't live without her daily haircare...

On, now, Ema, stop gawking. Move, move. It's almost time for the hairdresser's.

Da, can we not go...?

What?

Pleaaase, Da, I—I want it like that lady, not so so long, just down to my shoulders.

Ema, don't you let her influence you! It's a massive company what sent her down—she's not here to live our ruddy life.

Your ma's sick and I'm looking after her for love-long and a half—when am I going to find the time to sort your hair if you let it grow out?!

...But I... I—I really really don't want a buzzcut...

For god's sakes, budge it! You don't want me to hit you now, do you, Ema?

Excuse me, sir, but if you're talking to children, <i>talk to them.</i> What are you raising your hand for?

I... well...

(She uncontrollably sobs.)

No, you... naughty kids, you see, I was just disciplining her a little, just... it's just a little discipline.

You shouldn't be bothering over <i>us,</i> madam, really, I'm sorry about that... excuse us if you will, excuse us.

Alright, come on, Ema, we're off now.

Miss Saileach, I thought you'd up and gone already. Here's your clothes, and here's a little sack of flour we had left over. You take it, now.

That won't do... Mrs. Sheila, do you have enough food for yourself?

Course, course I do. My other half's eating soldier's meals on the front. It's just me eating dinner alone at home, fat chance I'll run out, don't you worry.

Thank you. Thank you, Miss.

Janie, how long have you been sitting here?

Sir! Tw—Two, maybe three hours?

What did you come so early for?

It's my first time raising the flag in the square today—I was so worked up, I couldn't sleep a wink last night, so eventually I imagined I'd just come here first thing and wait.

Oh? You certainly don't look like you spent all night awake.

...I had to find something to do while I was waiting for the sun to come up.

Grmph. Fine of you. You do look quite beaming.

You flatter me, Sir, really. It's a guard of honor's duty to mind their appearance!

At ease, guard of honor, at ease. The sun's rising now—go and see that the flag flies too.

Y—Yes, Sir.

Phew...

Combing her silken hair behind her ear in the dawn breeze, the girl straightens herself and makes for the flagpole stood in the center of the square, the flag held in her hands.

As it gracefully ascends, enthusiastic claps come from the masses that have waited for this since the wee hours.

In all the applause, the girl catches a few sunken mutters.

It's queer business. Did they really have to send our town of County Hillock a whole dedicated guard of honor, just to raise a flag? It's like we haven't even a say in the matter.

Heh, I wouldn't crawl out of bed at daft o'clock just to watch Lord Snooty hoist a flag up. At least seeing this warms your cockles, nah?

If it were up to me, they would've sent us a few film posters instead. One for each of us to stick on our walls and admire every day—<i>that's</i> how you raise a spirit or two.

Ah, shut, don't you start. A guard of honor's what it is—isn't having a sight for sore eyes enough? What are you so greedy for?

Looking through the crowd, the girl attempts to pick out who's talking.

But each and every one of their faces brims with a lauding smile, and she has to wonder if those voices weren't just the wind talking.

The morning gusts blow bitter cold through the square all asudden, the air digging under her collar.

In the breeze, she cannot help but give a shiver.

Get up! Janie, wakey-wakey!

Wil... what time is it?

Gone five, but we're only off at six. You've got time to plait your braids.

No... don't mind that, I'm leaving it today. We can head off straight away.

Er... Wil, do you know where the hairdresser's is in this town? I'm thinking of getting my hair cut.

Y—You what?!

If... If there's not one, I'm just as okay cutting it myself.

No, not that... of course there's a hairdresser's here, it's the last house at the end of the street. But, Janie... your hair's so nice. The <i>waste</i> of lopping it off.

It does tend to get in the way awfully at work, growing it out, see... Could you take over my shift tomorrow afternoon then?

Whaa—what's the hurry? You're not gonna wait a little longer?

You don't want me cutting my hair short?

I mean, it's fine, cut however short you feel... If it'll make work easier, plus I'm sure short hair would look just as fantastic on you.

...Thank you for that, Wil.

Excuse me, are you open right now?

Miss Saileach?

Do you know of me, sir?

Who wouldn't in this town?

What brings you here today? Hair treatment?

No, no, I'm here for a haircut.

A haircut, then... Take a seat, Miss Saileach, I'll fetch the scissors. If you need a sip of water, it's on the table...

Thank you, sir.

How short are you wanting it?

About to where everyone has it, please.

Okay... I'll be starting, then, Miss Saileach?

Mm...

In the mirror, the hairdresser lifts a lock of the girl's hair between his fingers. Blade crosses blade, and in one go, the hair falls away from his hand.

The girl stares at the lock, fallen to the floor in a pile, and empties her mind, waiting for the scissors by her ears to snip a second time.

She waits a good moment, and it doesn't come.

Sir?

...Eh?

Why did you stop cutting?

Miss Saileach, news doesn't get around our parts as well as it does yours. You're from some big old company, you've a million channels open to you versus us run-of-the-mill folk. I wanted to... to ask...

That's alright, sir. If you need it, then of course I'll help you. What did you want to inquire about?

It's... no, it's not like that, I just wanted to ask—you lot see something out of sorts about the town, don't you?

What makes you wonder that...?

Why don't you tell me, Miss Saileach? Here you've come to get a haircut.

It's—a haircut, is all it is, sir.

Miss Saileach, isn't this the way you've always looked? What makes you want your hair short all of a sudden now?

I just... only have so much time and energy, I—I can't afford to mind this sort of thing...

Something's about to happen, isn't it?

I—I haven't had any info of the sort suggest that. Everything seems... fine for the moment.

No... that's lies you're telling, Miss Saileach. Be honest with me. Those Sarkaz are soon to come storming this way, aren't they?

I suppose you think we'd all be crushed by the truth, so you're keeping quiet from us, zipping your lips. That's it, isn't it?

Sir, I haven't hidden a single thing from any of you!

Okay... if things aren't turning for the worse, then why are you coming here for a haircut?!

Sir... don't get so worked up, please, can you—can you calm down?

You show up at mine today out of nowhere, asking me to lop off your hair, and apparently the shorter the better—you sound to me like you plan to cark it and spend the whole next life not even giving a <i>shake</i> that hair grows on your head.

No matter how miserable it's ever gotten, you've—you've never up and said you'd get a haircut, right, so what's making you get one today?

...Sir...

I'm sorry, I...

I think I'd best find the time to come another day, sir.

Mrs. Sheila?

Miss Saileach? What brings you around?

Nothing, I just came because I wanted a haircut. Work's been busy lately, and I can't find the time to sort it all.

Wait... Mrs. Sheila, are you wearing lipstick today? No wonder you look like you've perked up. This red really suits you.

I...

Saileach's praise doesn't seem to bring any delight to the woman, who hastily uses her own hand to wipe the carmine off her lips.

She then lifts a corner of her hem, and rubs the remaining dye from the back of her hand.

Her sheer vigor chafes the skin of her hand raw, yet the color just won't come fully clean.

Mrs. Sheila, wh—what are you...?

No, I was just going silly—as if this is any sort of time to be bringing out lipstick—when we've got even people living respectable lives like you losing the will to—... *sigh* This is awful.

If you'll... Miss Saileach, you'd better go on back to work, I'll—I'll just get myself home.

Mrs. Sheila...

Hm? Janie, weren't you going for a haircut? I was looking forward to seeing your new style, you know?

I—I booked a new time with the hairdresser's. I'll go back in a few days.

Good thing they didn't trim you, really, or you'd be hard-pressed putting this on.

A paper flower? Did you fold this?

As if I'd have hands that skillful. No, a little girl brought it by—she said she hoped you'd like it.

It's so pretty. Folding a flower out of such a thin napkin must've been incredibly hard for her.

Aren't you going to try it on and see? It must go great with your long hair.

I'm... getting it cut, soon enough... I'd just have gotten people's hopes up, wouldn't I?

That's a few days from now, isn't it? Seize the moment, go on, wear it... Just put it on and see, look how nice it's folded and all—as pretty as any real flower.

She puts the paper flower up to her nose and gently sniffs. Through the girl's eyes flashes a hint of enchantment.

Mmm... I think I can smell a flowery sort of scent from this... just vaguely...

Wil... it's not a real flower, no matter how much it resembles one...

I know that, but it's almost winter, spring's a long ways away, and it's not like there's any real flowers about right now...

No one says you can't admire the flowers again in spring, now. Winter has its own demands to meet.

But all that we do in winter's exactly so we can await next spring, you know.

In the long, long midwinter, even a tiny little paper flower can remind us all, spring'll come on time.

And without that paper flower...?

That I don't know, Janie... a paper flower's just a light in the dark, and no matter if we're with or without one, spring will come.

But even so, Wil, people are longing for the same thing. Not just that it'll come to visit them, but that it'll come in their hearts...

Maybe one won't live in winter forever, but one's heart can.

True... true, that.

Phew...

You can hand me that flower... Wil.

Oh... okay, okay!

Stroking its soft petals, Saileach pinches the paper flower in her fingers, gives it a few turns, then nestles it by her ear, and as if out of bashfulness, lightly lowers her head.

They're silent, for a while. Finally, she lifts her head, and looks her colleague in the eye.

What do you think?

Huff... so cold...

Good—good morning, Miss Saileach.

G—Good morning, young miss, did you...?

I folded that flower on your head yesterday... I'm—um, I'm really happy you're wearing it today...

Oh, this flower was from you? Thank you, it's very beautifully folded. I love it a lot.

That's really amazing, thank you... Miss Saileach, can—can I touch your hair?

Of course, of course you can.

Your hair's sooo so pretty. My ma used to have really long hair just like you, but they cut it off after she got sick...

I'm sure she can grow her hair out again once she's better, and when she does, it'll be even prettier than mine.

Um, that's going to be a really really long time away, Ma's never... gotten any better... It's been making Da really sad.

Don't worry, you never know—once spring arrives next year, she might perk right up. Then you can take her to the park, and fold some real living flowers. I'm sure nestled in her long hair, they'll look wonderful.

Nobody's hair grows that quickly...

That's okay, I'll come along with you then, and she can borrow some of mine...

Borrow?

Saileach lifts up her hair, and lets it drape over the girl's head. A sea of golden blonde wraps around her, sheltering her.

A lock that falls into her hands is gripped, then once more let go.

Realizing how nervous the girl is, Saileach plucks the paper flower that adorns the side of her own head, and places it by the girl's ear.

In an instant, the girl flushes red.

Am—am I pretty, Miss Saileach?

You are. You're very pretty.

Ema, I'm done giving your daddy a trim, it's your turn now to... Oh, Miss Saileach... Can I help you two?

Um... is that you, Da?

Seeing her father come out from behind the door, the flustered girl brushes Saileach's hair away from her head, and the white flower nestled in her ear is swept off onto the floor in her panic.

But unexpectedly, her father does no more than give her cheek a light caress, after which he picks the flower up, and puts it back safely in her hands.

Bet you got bored waiting. Cold?

I wasn't bored! And I'm not cold.

Good morning, sir.

Good morning, Miss Saileach...

Um... Miss Saileach... It's looking like I won't have time the next few days, so about your haircut, well... you'll probably have to wait a bit longer for that.

Ah, Miss Saileach... are—are you cutting your hair?

No.

You aren't?

Yes, I've changed my mind...

So, how about you, Ema...?

Da... Can—can I keep my hair?

Through the avenue sweeps a gust of wind. Saileach combs the hair blown out of place back behind her ear, and looks at the man.

The girl grasps her paper flower tight. The hairdresser rubs the doorframe with the tip of his shoe.

Under all their expectant gazes, the man clears his throat, and finally answers.