23 Jan 2022, 02:06
Tears and a Haircut, Two Bits
Trigger Warning
As it goes with this new arc of Willow, dissociation, dysphoria, just like- a bunch of sadness is in this thread. Please take caution and take care of yourself when reading.
☁ Date ☁
23 January, 2022
The weekend of duels was over, but Willow largely felt numb from it all.
There had been so much going on with her that her brain at this point had completely shut down. The only time she was really present was in her own duel. The one she had to moderate she was in and out. Classes passed by, assignments were handed in, but Willow largely felt gone. She spent most of the day within her brain, emptying out storage boxes and ripping apart files to try and find the answers. The problem was that she didn't exactly have a question aside from who am I.
Every part of her felt harnessed from something else, nothing quite her own. Her witchcraft from her family. Her style picked out and pasted from the things she saw around her, the people she saw that were popular. Her personality and the jokes she tells pulled from the conversations that she had with friends and strangers. Her bright and sunny disposition could be copied and pasted from anyone in Hufflepuff and no one could tell the difference. The only thing innate to her was the magic that she held, but she didn't choose that, and now she was in a school full of people who had it. Of some who thought her magic was dirtied by who she came from.
Only the basics of who she was came up when thinking about who she was. She was 13, a Hufflepuff, from Willen, England. Her mom owns an Etsy shop and her dad works in marketing for a few companies in London. She was a prefect, duelling vice-captain, a writer for the Headliner. She was in her third year at Hogwarts. What were other things... what made her... her. She handed out a lot of friendship bracelets as an attempt to be somebody in other's minds. As an attempt to exist elsewhere from her home and herself. To stop the loneliness that seeped into her mind like a black ink that had spilled over pristine white paper when she struggled to make friends. She... painted. But not really, not anymore. She didn't have time. There was no time for anything.
There were classes, the duelling practice, then homework and essays, making sure she had articles done for the school newspaper, of staying out late to do patrols, and running detentions. There were meals, that's where she breathed most of the time. Combined with a smile that didn't reach her eyes anymore and a laugh that had to be punched out of her lungs in an attempt to seem like she was still here, like she was still the person she had made everyone believe she was. This feeling had been creeping up on her for years, had been slowly winding it's way through her veins and twisting up her brain stem until it occupied her entire mind. Every time she had been able to combat it and swat it down with affirmations and telling herself that she was perfect the way she was. But this time... it wouldn't go away.
Through windowed eyes she found herself staring into a cracked and dirtied mirror. She had somehow made it to the Abandoned Toilets, the prefect bathroom and the Hufflepuff bathrooms seeming like too public of a place to grieve the idea of who she was. She found herself fragmented within the slices of glass, tears slipping down her cheeks and traveling through several pieces before falling to the ground.
To be called a robot would be inaccurate in this mindset. Robots didn't have emotions, at least not yet in the advancement of technology. Willow had too many, rendering her into a shell that was running on auto-pilot until she was able to return. The body had been completely vacated, her mind watching from within her skull through eyes that didn't feel like hers anymore. The sound didn't completely register when it happened, nor did the softness of hair in her hands before it fell to the ground.
Snip.Snip.Snip.
Within the stillness of the bathroom Willow swore she could hear the hair as it landed on the ground. As chunks of her hair fell from her hands, cut off by her precious fabric scissors, the movement became more frantic, more desperate. The choke of tears was broken about halfway through the process, a particularly loud snip pushing her over the edge as her hair continued to fall away. As her hands shook, she held the scissors further away leaving longer and longer chunks of uneven hair on her head. Worried about holding scissors so close to her scalp when she could barely hold them at all.
At the final snip of the last closure of the scissors around her long untouched hair, she let the scissors clatter into the sink. Her sobs had grown quite loud, echoing off of the stone walls that were overdue for maintenance. As she looked in the mirror, slowly coming back into herself from the week of numb, she saw the most hideous haircut that she had ever seen.
She was surrounded by hair, the sink was full of it. It stuck to her clothes and remained on her shoulders. But her gaze was stuck, shaky hands coming up to brush off and pull away and loose hair. Sure, it was the most hideous thing ever and she definitely need to try and fix it. But... oddly, for the moment, she felt the most like herself that she had in weeks.
The young badger stood there, sobbing, tears running rampant down her face and snot dribbling down, loose hair stuck to the wet trails that had been left on her cheeks. Scissors in the sink, hair clutched tightly in her hands. Staring at the fragmented reflection in front of her that seemed like it was looking back from the other side.
"I don't know whether to cry or scream or do both. It feels like I've done more than enough of both. And it feels like I haven't done enough." - Mason Deaver
Stamina 12 ∴ Evasion 12 ∴ Strength 5 ∴ Wisdom 12 ∵ ArcPower 10 ∵ Accuracy 15
Stamina 12 ∴ Evasion 12 ∴ Strength 5 ∴ Wisdom 12 ∵ ArcPower 10 ∵ Accuracy 15
24 Jan 2022, 18:29
Tears and a Haircut, Two Bits
Things had not been the same with Willow this year, the kind of thing that Flash would normally notice in seconds, not months. They had been more quiet, not sharing their days as much, less noise and enthusiasm, more staring off into space. They still spent almost every day together, still ate food together, but the conversations were terse and drained. At first, Flash thought it was just him. After all, he had experienced quite the ordeal in September, one he had informed Willow about, yet refused to elaborate on. She respected his wishes and did not pry. Back in September he thought there was something he could do, that he would find a way out of this curse.
But instead, he was hollowed out, left to die. He didn't know what his future held, but he did know one thing. It wasn't just him, Willow was also suffering in silence. Once he recognized the possibility, the evidence was everywhere. She was always tired, ate less, spoke less, attended fewer activities. One excuse could be that she was busy with her extracurriculars, dueling and newspaper writing, but cooperative tasks usually fueled her, not drained her. It was certainly something personal, something emotional. He would normally also respect her privacy, but he had not been specifically asked not to pry... therefore, he did.
On this particular day, he tried to ask her how she felt, but she barely seemed to note his question. After classes, she did not show up to meet him. Alarmed, he asked around school to people in her classes, people her age, anyone that might have seen her in the halls. With enough investigation, he found the trail that led to the second floor. Barring any actual classes or the study room, the second floor had very little to offer. It did have one location though, an abandoned bathroom. It was a good place to go for someone that did not anyone to find them.
Knowing Willow's history of breakdowns, that was the scene he expected to walk in on. Instead, a heap of hair, quiet tears. She looked hideous. Clumps of varied lengths patched around her skull, like her head had been stuck into a blender. For a moment, despite how the scene was laid out, he worried that someone had come by and sheared her in an act of bullying. It was unlikely though, Willow was more than capable of defending herself, and upon closer inspection, it was her own fabric scissors laying on top of the blonde nest. He would make no headway trying to solve it himself, he stepped forward to make himself known.
"Willow." He would announce his presence if it wasn't already obvious, a face of brotherly concern etched onto his features. "Your hair... please tell me what is going on."
@Willow Anderson
For we dreamed a lot//And we schemed a lot//And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart
Sta: 9 ★Eva: 5 ★Str: 7 ★Wis: 15 ★AP: 3 ★Acc: 15
26 Jan 2022, 22:25
Tears and a Haircut, Two Bits
☁ Interacting ☁
@Flash Holmwood
It took a second for Willow to register that there was someone else in the bathroom with her, not only that but they were speaking to her. She should've known that Flash would come seeking her out after she hadn't met him after class, but there was something deep in her that hoped that he would be ok with the break in routine with no communication... yeah it was a silly hope.
She looked up at him, the worry traced into every part of his face. He had seen her through her worst moments, but this felt like the lowest of them all. Slowly her fists uncurled, letting stray locks fall from between her fingers to the ground. This sure would be a mess to clean up. Her eyes flicked from him to the scissors that laid in front of her.
To be honest... Willow didn't entirely know what was going on. "I... uh I cut my hair..." Surely, that was enough of a start. She wiped her hands on her robes, trying to get the last bits of hair remaining on her hands off. "I did a pretty shit job of it too..." Cursing wasn't exactly normal, it didn't feel natural slipping off of her tongue. But she felt like it described the situation pretty well.
Slowly she approached Flash, steps tentative as if she was a frightened animal seeing a human for the first time in years. Usually her hugs were exuberant. Tight grips filled with a feeling that it might be the last, so she should make it good. Ever since her grandmother died, she was determined to make every hug a good one. This one was a loose grasp for help. Hands locking into each other behind his back to keep some semblance of a grip on his midsection. Her head fell tiredly into his chest, he had always been much taller than her, and for moments like this she was grateful for it. Hugging him felt like the sigh of relief that she needed.
"I just... don't know who I am anymore. There's something wrong with me and I can't figure out what it is." Her voice was soft. If they had been mid-lunch in the Great Hall there would be no way for him to hear her, but right now it was the two of them in a gross abandoned bathroom that had probably seen enough tears to span many lifetimes. "It's not.. visible like the curse. I don't even think it's something necessarily wrong. Something is different and I don't know what it is. I don't think it's puberty... I did a lot of googling about that last summer." Every now and again the ache for muggle technology came up, and now was one of those times. There were no places for her to search for answers, to see if anyone had similar experiences. She couldn't poll the student body about if they felt like a person. Well, she could but it would certainly turn out awful.
Willow pulled slightly away from Flash, not enough to completely let go, but enough to be able to look up at him. "Please help me fix my hair." While Willow wasn't exactly a vain person, she did enjoy looking good and this was so far away from that. "I think I'd like it if it was just... you know, not like this." The smallest hint of a smile twitched at the edge of her lips. For anyone else it could have gone unnoticed, but Flash knew her better than anyone else and would hopefully latch on to the faint bit of happiness that still existed deep within the usually sunshine-y badger.
"I don't know whether to cry or scream or do both. It feels like I've done more than enough of both. And it feels like I haven't done enough." - Mason Deaver
Stamina 12 ∴ Evasion 12 ∴ Strength 5 ∴ Wisdom 12 ∵ ArcPower 10 ∵ Accuracy 15
Stamina 12 ∴ Evasion 12 ∴ Strength 5 ∴ Wisdom 12 ∵ ArcPower 10 ∵ Accuracy 15
7 Feb 2022, 13:42
Tears and a Haircut, Two Bits
Willow turned to him, the fistfuls of hair detaching from her fingers a clue to the mess, followed by her own stilted words. He wanted to laugh by the way she said it, almost like they were still just joking like normal, but the curse made it somehow sharp. He searched her features for something like shame, or dishonesty, but the expression was almost aloof. Lost.
She approached while still looking forlorn, embraced him while devoid. Flash would hug back, his arms wrapping around her shoulders and squeezing her tightly. He was always seeking the comfort of warmth and touch, and Willow was one of the few people he could rely on to give him that. Whatever it was that was bothering her, the love between them was still there, which was imminently important. He was steeled in the hug, certain that whatever it was, love would see it through.
Willow continued, her identity being on the line. Flash stayed quiet as she explained, gently rubbing her upper back between the shoulders, where he knew stress liked to sit. His mind was more still than usual as well. Normally, he would like to offer helpful placations about the virtues of patience or temperance, but there was nothing to attack or solve. Even Willow herself seemed at a loss for how to describe it, but it was clearly something. His mind didn't even know where to start, its normal behavior of running on overdrive was replaced by quiet idling.
Luckily for him, he would be given an action to do after all. She moved to look at him, asking for help with something physical-- the hair. Her small smile would create a large one on his, though it also hurt his gut. He could read the pain on her face, and her pain made him feel pain. She wasn't lying though, it was a fact that her hair needed fixing. He'd look at the choppy mop next, clearing his throat of the frog sitting there.
"I don't know anything about hair cutting..." He'd start, moving his hands to her shoulders and appraising her mangled scalp. "... but I should be able to make it even, at least."
From there, it would be a matter of taking up the scissors and situating themselves so that Flash was behind her. He took his free hand and ran it through what was left, the hair lifting in between his fingers where it was more easy to see its true length. After analyzing for a bit, he took the plunge and started to cut bit by bit. Getting it perfect would take a while, the current job was haphazard, especially in the back where she was unable to see. Flash was meticulous though, so with enough time he would see it leveled off.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He would add, continuing his work without stop. If she did not, he could always tell her another story. "It doesn't have to make sense, you could just say whatever comes to mind."
@Willow Anderson
For we dreamed a lot//And we schemed a lot//And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart
Sta: 9 ★Eva: 5 ★Str: 7 ★Wis: 15 ★AP: 3 ★Acc: 15
14 Jun 2022, 21:42
Tears and a Haircut, Two Bits
☁ Interacting ☁
@Flash Holmwood
Flash's hand rubbing her upper back slowly unwound the coils of various safeguards she had put up to maintain composure as she went on her day. Wake up, be happy at breakfast, study well and answer a few questions during class, socialize at lunch, say that she's tired but shrug it off, more class, collapse in the hammock if she had time. Patrols, practice, homework. Dinner, fall asleep, repeat. Her body slowly untensed, not realizing how stiff it was despite not having any energy to tense up her muscles.
As he agreed to take on the task of making her look less- well- like whatever she looked at they moved to the mirror. Willow's eyes stayed downcast, unable to look at herself even through fractured mirrors. "Sometimes I miss muggle technology, like a razor or something that my dad gets at the barber would've made this easier." Her hands were clasped together in front of her. Luckily Flash was too tall for his age and he had a fine height advantage for fixing her hair without the need of a chair. At the first sound of scissors closing around her hair she couldn't help but flinch. She was too aware of what was happening, what she had done. The fog of impulse was gone, and she couldn't help but wonder what her family, what her grandma, would think about her going AWOL and chopping off all her hair.
"Um- maybe. I guess I can try..." For once her mind blanked, unsure of where to start. She stayed silent for a few minutes, staring at the floor. She had to remind herself to blink. The haircut wouldn't take that long but Willow knew even if Flash finished before she was done he would sit with her until she was done, even if it took an eternity. "I haven't gone home all year. Not even for the winter holiday. I stayed here. I told them I was needed as a prefect. I just- don't want them to see me like this." She took a shuddering breath, shoulders shaking with the weight of switching places with Atlas.
"I feel like- when I look at myself I just see a stranger. It's not- me on the other side. I don't know. It just happened one day. I want to be made of play-doh. I could squish and pull and take away and add and just- make myself feel like me again. I feel like I'm faking everything. I don't know."
"I didn't want my hair anymore. It was so heavy. It felt so heavy on my head. I just- I wanted it gone and I ended up here. I want to pause whatever is happening- It feels like everything is going too fast all at once. I-I don't know if this is puberty or- or- some weird magic stuff, or even some weird muggle stuff." Her voice sped up, getting panicky and confused.
"I just- I don't know. I don't know. I used to have this stupid feelings wheel as a kid. It helped like- identify my emotions. I don't- I'm not even on the chart. I can't point to a scale, or a color, or a wheel. I don't- I don't know Flash. I just want to know. I don't even know what I would google if I was home. What- what- how, how do I ask? My Goddess has been silent and nothing is working. Crystals, spells, nothing."
Like a dam she broke, sobs heaving from the deepest part of her chest. She braced herself on the sink, white knuckling the cracked porcelain to keep her upright. "I feel so alone. Not even in a- I have no friends way. I just- It feels like I don't exist to myself." None of this made sense surely, it barely made sense to her. Words spouted out just as quickly as the flow of tears. Pulling sentences and feelings out of thin air in the hopes of being understood.
"I don't know whether to cry or scream or do both. It feels like I've done more than enough of both. And it feels like I haven't done enough." - Mason Deaver
Stamina 12 ∴ Evasion 12 ∴ Strength 5 ∴ Wisdom 12 ∵ ArcPower 10 ∵ Accuracy 15
Stamina 12 ∴ Evasion 12 ∴ Strength 5 ∴ Wisdom 12 ∵ ArcPower 10 ∵ Accuracy 15
9 Aug 2022, 15:19
Tears and a Haircut, Two Bits
As Flash started, Willow would muse about muggle technology such as electric razors. It reminded him of his father, for whom most wizarding technology was still alien as he kept to the muggle comforts he understood. As someone who grew up entrenched in both worlds, it was hard for Flash to pull one from the other. Occasionally, and even for a millisecond as he started cutting, he forgot that electronics would not work at Hogwarts. At times it seemed like such a delicate balance, and yet they had managed to keep the magical world a secret for so long. That thought would continue into memories of Willow's home, and her parents, and their view of magic which had nothing to do with 'real magic.' The world was always so strange and changing, it was not a wonder that at their age everything was so confusing.
It was a surprise then when she stated that she had not gone home during the last break. Astonishing, almost, given how much they loved one another. It was immediately clear that whatever 'this' was, was more serious than just a thing to cry and cut one's hair over. If anyone could understand her confusion and pain, it would be her loving parents, wouldn't it? When she continued about looking like a stranger and wanting to mold herself, he didn't know what to say. His expression would be easily readable in the mirror even though he was behind her, but it would be concentrated on the bright blonde hair and making them all roughly the same length. Solemn, perhaps, listening.
"It's okay." Flash would speak up when it sounded like she was starting to panic, listing off the reasons she might be feeling this way, "I don't know either, but I know that feeling at least, feeling like I want the world to stop so I can catch my breath. I'm here now, the hair is gone, we can take a break."
Willow calmed down a bit, more thoroughly going through the problems and how nothing at her disposal was helping her address it. Before he could think of anything that might comfort her, she began to weep. The sound pained him, but he knew that crying could sometimes be therapeutic. It seemed to be all that was left once everything else was exhausted. He too had broken into fits of crying at times of distress, and the exertion of it often made him feel better rather than worse. Her difficulties with identity was one he was not equipped to handle, but at the very least, he loved her, so he spoke up again.
"That sounds frightening." Flash would admit this first, looking at her directly through the foggy glass before returning to his work. "But you're still here. Still alive. Certainly there is time left to figure something out. We're working on it, aren't we? Does your head feel lighter now?"
@Willow Anderson
For we dreamed a lot//And we schemed a lot//And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart
Sta: 9 ★Eva: 5 ★Str: 7 ★Wis: 15 ★AP: 3 ★Acc: 15