Ribbons For Her Hair
Prompt: "Ribbons for her hair."
"How was it that you used to wear your hair?" he asked, a touch of nostalgia in his voice that Louise understood all too well. He didn't need to be reminded—he already knew—but remembering a time gone by was never much fun alone.
With one hand, Louise held her infant daughter to her breast, and with the other, she reached up almost hesitantly to brush her tangled hair behind her ear. "It was such a long time ago," said she, her voice nothing but a quiet murmur in the late afternoon air. She lifted Clarine to her shoulder and patted her back as she smiled at her husband. "But I remember lace and ribbons, and a certain impatient young suitor…"
Her eyes twinkled with mirth, and he could not stop himself from smiling. Time stopped for no man, and they had certainly not been the exception to that rule. Thin lines could be seen at the corners of his wife's mouth—laugh lines, she liked to say—and he himself had crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
He held out a box. "I saw this and thought of you."
"Oh?" She got to her feet and placed Clarine carefully in her bassinet before going back to the bed and taking the box from Pent. When she carefully slid off the white lid, she laughed, and pulled out two soft ribbons of velvet.
"Will you wear them?" he asked.
Her fingers stroked the soft material, and she whispered, almost under her breath, "Women really shouldn't wear ribbons, dear."
He reached for her brush, and pushed her to seat herself on the edge of the bed. "Allow me," he said cheerfully, and pulled her long blonde hair behind her before he began to brush it out.
Slowly, the tangles came undone, and she fidgeted, feeling foolish as he began to weave the ribbons through her hair. The hairstyle was quite outdated, especially for a woman as old as she!
When he finished, he stood back and admired his handiwork as she felt her hair.
"I feel very silly," she admitted, a light pink staining her cheeks.
"But you look beautiful."
She twisted around to face him, a mischievous light in her eyes. "My Lord Pent?" she asked, attempting to sound quite innocent.
"Yes, my dear?"
"How was it that you used to wear your hair?"
He grabbed his loose ponytail, and then looked at her pleadingly.
"If I recall properly," she teased, coming to stand in front of him, "you used to wear it quite short!"
"Now, now," he said, a laugh threatening to bubble to the surface at any moment, "I don't think I like where this is headed!"
She smiled up at him and stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss. "I'll let you off the hook this time," she said, "but only because you did such a good job with my hair."
For FE Fest over on Livejournal. I am constantly reminded of The Truth about myself and writing: I can't end anything to save my life.