HOME | DD

Description
The last detail was the seashells, she had painstakingly ground tiny holes in each of their bases over the last two hours with delicate care. To much pressure and the shell would crack, and she had already lost one, she was determined to not lose another. Winding the tiniest bit of thread through the hole she would it to the pearl stud she had fashioned and draped them from her ears. Slowly giving each a little flick to see if it would hold up.
Eyes cast down into the sea before her she cocked her head to one side and then the other looking at herself for the first-time sense in ages, or, before the stranger had come to her island home. Examining the face looking up at her she reached back to fluff her fiery red hair, the soft locks cascaded down her back and over her shoulders in wavy locks. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to have her hair so fluffy, curtesy of the gift he had presented her.

It had been such a small thing, a tiny bottle hardly big enough to hold anything of meaningful amount yet she had accepted it gratefully. She had been about to quaff its contents when he had stopped her, and almost laughingly told her it was not that kind of liquid.

She had spent the rest of that morning boiling water, clearing out as much of the salt brine as possible until she had enough to fill a small pool on the upper cliff side of the mountain. It was a tiny pool, but it would be more than enough for her as she tentatively emptied a palm full of the liquid into her hands and began to smear it through her hair.

The smell was the first thing she noticed, a pleasant sort of cleanliness that reminded her of sunny mornings, or green plants in the spring. She had spent almost a minute slowly leaning over smelling her palms, before spreading the liquid into her hair as she had been instructed.

Stepping into the pool she had dipped her head and began to work her fingers into her hair only to have to suppress a yelp of surprise as bubbles began to form all around her. So many bubbles! All streaming on and around her filling her tiny pool with their reflective surfaces.

She had spent an hour there.

Maybe more, only coming out when the stranger had made the trek up the island to make sure she hadn’t drowned. That thought made her smile, reaching up she stroked her fire touched locks again. Something inside the bottle had made them fluffy up, spreading down over her back with the shine of a polished ruby stone.

Smiling, she took one last look at herself, she had taken the time to fix her clothes as well. Sacrificing the twine, she had worked so hard at weaving from the grass on the island to make a second cord for her top, retying the strings around her arms to keep the leather hide in place. Even reworking the knotted bones around her neck with a less frayed cord. The shells head been the last touch, their soft pink surfaces shining brightly standing out in sharp relief against her fire kissed hair and amber eyes.

She hoped she looked pretty, she wanted to look pretty, for him, for today was special and for the first time sense she discovered she was not alone, Mina was in the mood to celebrate.

Done while on an aircraft, with a pen that kept failing on me, over the course of three hours and turbulence. Still I like how it turned out.

Description
The last detail was the seashells, she had painstakingly ground tiny holes in each of their bases over the last two hours with delicate care. To much pressure and the shell would crack, and she had already lost one, she was determined to not lose another. Winding the tiniest bit of thread through the hole she would it to the pearl stud she had fashioned and draped them from her ears. Slowly giving each a little flick to see if it would hold up.
Eyes cast down into the sea before her she cocked her head to one side and then the other looking at herself for the first-time sense in ages, or, before the stranger had come to her island home. Examining the face looking up at her she reached back to fluff her fiery red hair, the soft locks cascaded down her back and over her shoulders in wavy locks. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to have her hair so fluffy, curtesy of the gift he had presented her.

It had been such a small thing, a tiny bottle hardly big enough to hold anything of meaningful amount yet she had accepted it gratefully. She had been about to quaff its contents when he had stopped her, and almost laughingly told her it was not that kind of liquid.

She had spent the rest of that morning boiling water, clearing out as much of the salt brine as possible until she had enough to fill a small pool on the upper cliff side of the mountain. It was a tiny pool, but it would be more than enough for her as she tentatively emptied a palm full of the liquid into her hands and began to smear it through her hair.

The smell was the first thing she noticed, a pleasant sort of cleanliness that reminded her of sunny mornings, or green plants in the spring. She had spent almost a minute slowly leaning over smelling her palms, before spreading the liquid into her hair as she had been instructed.

Stepping into the pool she had dipped her head and began to work her fingers into her hair only to have to suppress a yelp of surprise as bubbles began to form all around her. So many bubbles! All streaming on and around her filling her tiny pool with their reflective surfaces.

She had spent an hour there.

Maybe more, only coming out when the stranger had made the trek up the island to make sure she hadn’t drowned. That thought made her smile, reaching up she stroked her fire touched locks again. Something inside the bottle had made them fluffy up, spreading down over her back with the shine of a polished ruby stone.

Smiling, she took one last look at herself, she had taken the time to fix her clothes as well. Sacrificing the twine, she had worked so hard at weaving from the grass on the island to make a second cord for her top, retying the strings around her arms to keep the leather hide in place. Even reworking the knotted bones around her neck with a less frayed cord. The shells head been the last touch, their soft pink surfaces shining brightly standing out in sharp relief against her fire kissed hair and amber eyes.

She hoped she looked pretty, she wanted to look pretty, for him, for today was special and for the first time sense she discovered she was not alone, Mina was in the mood to celebrate.

Done while on an aircraft, with a pen that kept failing on me, over the course of three hours and turbulence. Still I like how it turned out.