***
Submerged in the cold water of the stream, Noctis shifted his head side to side, letting his hair fall down as he riffled through it with a wooden comb he had carved for himself.
Thanks to the bone knife, it was easier to make it even though he was still an amateur in this respect.
About his hair: it had grown to reach to his chest, and due to his lack of care, it had started looking quite tangled and wild despite its natural appeal.
Now he didn't have much experience taking care of his hair despite having lived a life till his late teens, what with the obsession of the facility to erase every bit of individuality among the subjects, nor did he actually care for his hair… Or so he told himself.
But his mother forbade him to cut it off.
Less forbade and more lightly suggested to keep them, but he couldn't go breaking her heart for something that didn't really inconvenience him all that much.
