Picture this;

Curtains of silk; Dancing with the delicate breeze, its lightness in colour and in weight, in movement and motive, its freedom, its beauty. Its soft and tenderness on your fingers, like blankets, like thin papers of cloud.

Curtains on a window frame.

Now picture this:

Curtains on her precious frame.

Her hair.

Did this colour exist on earth before? Because I can't recall such vibrancy. I think she can fly because her hair composed of feathers. A river Nile; blanketing her delicate figure, in kindness and modesty. And when she flies her hair dances like curtains, much like the ones I used to wake up to see in Bruce's mansions.

"... and so that's why I think that it's better off not knowing what resides in Beastboy's room." Raven concludes.

Recover Robin.

"I'm surprised that you're surprised." I lift one eyebrow and smile.

Not bad.

She gives a "smile," or at least for her standards.

She doesn't ask with her words, but she looks at me and waits patiently. She knows. She always knows. This is what I love and hate about her at the very same time.

"Um … is it weird ….to ask a girl if you can….um… touch her hair?"

She raised an eyebrow and her lips twitch upwards a few times. She gets up to leave, gives me a slap at the back of the head and then she's gone.

Yea. Probably weird.

Starfire and I sit on the couch on a drag of a summer day. The other Titans seem to be, well, it's too hot to remember. I'm lying on the floor, when I used to be on the couch not long ago. It's too hot. Too too hot. Star is upside down on the couch, her curtain of hair hanging right in front of me. Really not helping my case.

Not really helping hers, either. It was just too hot for just so much hair.


"Yes, Robin?"

"Can I b-braid your hair?"

She sits up properly on the couch. Doesn't say anything though, her eyes a bit curious. I get up from the spot on the floor and sit behind her. My hands reach out and slowly and finally run my fingers through her hair. She doesn't move, probably a little nervous or awkward. I hesitatingly extend my fingers to the sides of her face, stroke them through again, and start to braid. I'm not sure how I know to braid, but heck am I glad that I do.

She thanked me and said she was much less hot after that.

I disagree.