Marianne shook her head in exasperation, batting her sister’s accusing finger away. Honestly she didn’t care that Dawn liked to keep clean and tidy; it was who she was, and that was fine. What concerned the brunette was how she reacted when the unthinkable happened and a speck of dirt dared to mare her perfection. It wasn’t healthy to have that severe of an aversion to something that surrounded them twenty-four seven.
“Hey, I don’t try to get dirty—I just don’t care if I do. There’s a difference. It’s not like I go rolling around in mud puddles just to annoy you,” she countered with a frustrated gesture at the dirt. “Going out in the world is dirty work sometimes. I’ve learned to accept that.” Marianne puffed out her chest, shooting Dawn a confident grin. “In fact, I wear it proudly. I’m not just a frilly princess living in an ivory tower—I go places, see new things. If that means I have to get dirty—” her voice took on a tone of mock horror, “—that’s fine with me.”
As much as Marianne would love to teach her sister how to fend for herself, she knew it would never happen. Anyone could learn to fight if they dedicated themselves to it enough; even if she could somehow convince Dawn to try, her sister would never have that level of enthusiasm that would allow her to stick with it. “Doesn’t mean you couldn’t try,” she offered with a shrug. It was worth discussing now that the option had been brought up, after all.
When Dawn finally relented and granted permission for Marianne to fix her hair, the brunette was sure to duck her head to hide her sly smile as she moved behind her sister. “Don’t worry,” she sing-songed, “it’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
Once the words left her lips, however, she paused, her hands frozen half-way to the back of Dawn’s head. She stared at her fingers, smudged with brown, and felt herself hesitating. Several heartbeats passed until finally, with a muffled sigh, Marianne wiped her hands on the back of her pants, her voice much softer as she spoke again, “I’ll show you not to doubt me.”
It didn’t take long before her sister’s hair was rearranged to how it was usually worn—or at least, as close as Marianne could get it. Admittedly a bit proud of her handiwork, the elder fairy paused for a moment, before quickly swiping a tad of dirt from her shirt and pressing a single thumb-print just above Dawn’s dress collar. Grinning, she pat the blonde on the back to conceal the action, “There we go, good as new!”
Long since done with arguing over cleanliness with her
stubborn sister (which, really, both of them were stubborn),
Dawn disregarded Marianne’s final comments about it.
The only sign of them even being heard was the slightest
click of her tongue before she rolled her eyes and proceeded
focusing on the mop that was her hair. Her face screwed up
with the effort of putting it back into something far more orderly
and fit for a princess.
Of course, having her curls, it oftentimes looked to be on the messier
side: something Dawn on occasion labored over. As long as she
didn’t pass her reflection enough to notice anything slightly out of
place, however, she usually managed a whole day without worrying.
Aside from the extensive morning preparation.
Catching on to Marianne’s response to their speculation over
training Dawn in self-defense, she met her sister’s gaze with a
saccharine smile. “Oh, Marianne.” The fairy looked at her
pathetically--almost pitifully. “That’s what the guards are for.
They fight. And we get to cheer them on with bright smiles
from the sidelines.” Then, thinking it over, “Well, maybe not
you, but--”
She trailed off with her nose wrinkled, turning to better allow
Marianne the ability to comb her fingers through her hair.
While she did so, the younger fairy took to observing her nails,
and she immediately perked the moment Marianne was done.
Oblivious to the spot of dirt left behind on her neck, she grinned
back.
“Why, thank you. I’ll let you know how well you’ve done
when we’re back home. Can’t go making judgments
before I see it, right?”
