"Are you coming inside, or do you plan to continue darkening the entryway with your presence?" Circe asked dryly when she noticed Ragnar lingering by the room's threshold.
She sat in front of the vanity, her expression pinched in frustration as she tried and failed to wrangle her thick mane of hair into something that even remotely resembled a neat updo. She was on her third attempt now, and her patience, fickle as it usually was on the best of days, was already wearing thin.
That was why she had long since resorted to wearing her hair down since she came here. Not because she particularly preferred that style, but because it was the only one she could actually manage without wanting to rip her hair out.
Her hair was long, impossibly thick, and heavy enough to make her neck ache if left bound too tightly. Back home, it had always taken at least two skilled maids to style it properly, three if she was preparing for an event.
