Lone Gold, Daring Purple ✓ | Sorcerers, framed, runaway

16: Alone, but not lonely, she said.

An hour later, Wescherlie pinched her nose, ushering Cypur into the shower. "Your sweat is historically naturally stinky to ward off rivals or attract desperate mates. You go first. I can't stand it anymore."

Oh, shut up. He grimaced and sniffed his arm. Didn't smell any worse than he might have after a long day at school. He shook his head, but he was glad to go first. Showers were relaxing. It was just what he needed after all that.

A sigh escaped his lips as the warm water touched every nook and cranny of cold skin. Some deeper scratches on his arms and legs he caught healing. There was a small mirror at eye level and Cypur blinked lazily at himself. Droopy eyes shot up in surprise. How ragged he looked! His hair was frizzy like a mad person.

Damn, the world really hasn't been kind to you, has it?

He reached for the shampoo—some herbal stuff that had a floral scent he didn't care for—and scrubbed his hair. Taking long care to massage his scalp, he make sure all the hair strands were soaped and delicately rinsed. Even though his hair was being subjected to foreign soap, he hoped his normal hair-washing routine would still bring the same results.

Lucious golden strands. A love-hate relationship. He chuckled softly. The finer, softer hair of his needed care to make shine. On one hand, he didn't like standing out because of it. 'Goldilocks' was a nickname he loathed hearing. On the other hand, the same way other Sorcerers gushed over his golden magick, he felt similar about his golden hair. It was a point of pride.

Very Sorcerer-like, me. He tipped his head back to rinse the soap out.

When he finally stepped out of the shower, wringing his hair out, he found there was only one towel. He called to Wescherlie about it.

"You can use it. I'm going to shower bird style. Don't worry about me." Wescherlie's voice sounded muffled as if she were smothering her face in the pillow.

"Alright, if you say so." Cypur dried his hair and combed it out with his fingers. The floral scent wasn't as strong now that he washed the soap out and the body soap smelled like roses and made him grimace. How fitting that he had actual Rosie Buns now.

Four buns, he thought. A squeak of laughter escaped his lips. Filled up, washed up, he was refreshed and a little giddy. It was so nice to be away from everything. He never had that chance before, always bogged down with having to be the perfect Sorcerer. Always following social norms and always trying to keep his emotions at bay.

Really, he wanted to laugh and squeal, run and play, say jokes, and never have to be calm and composed all the time or stress about what others thought of him. But he would behave, of course. As long as he could be himself all other times.

"I'm coming out," he called, "in a towel."

"I thought as much." Wescherlie's voice was close to the door, making him jump. "I found this. Can you open? There was only one. Obviously, I'm not a registered visitor."

He thanked her for the bathrobe and closed the door. Of course, it was too big for him. At least he was covered. He opened the door to Wescherlie the Raven.

"Can you turn on the water for me?" The raven hopped into the shower. "Like a lukewarm temperature? Not on full blast. Imagine a soft rainfall type."

Once the shower was set for her, he closed the door.

"Holler if you need me to turn it off," he said, and she cawed. Her clothes, he guessed, somehow were part of her feathers. Maybe if she pruned them and dried them off her clothes would dry up, too?

Using her absence from the room, Cypur opened up his bathrobe and let the warmth magick in the room dry his skin. He combed his hair with his fingers, wincing at the snarls.