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In time, even the most unusual lifestyle settled down and became normal. Four years ago Taveare’s was enslaved in the Underdark, and now she ruled Baldur’s Gate. Even the life of politics and intrigue settled into its own routine and came to feel ordinary.
After the dinner plates were cleared, a servant came by the table with the usual sweet wine they always drank after the evening meal, but Minthara held out a hand and shook her head to stop him before he set the glasses on the table.
“We will skip the evening wine tonight. There is a matter I wish to attend to that requires a clear head.”
“Oh?” Taveare leaned forward with her elbows on the table and her chin resting in her hands. “Is everything alright?”
“Nothing to worry over. I was thinking of Shadowheart, and felt inspired by how she changed her appearance to reflect rejection of a cruel goddess and a start to a new chapter of her life. I wish to do the same.”
“So you need help dying your hair?”
“I would hate for it to turn out poorly, and I have never attempted such before. I have everything we need upstairs.”
Taveare grinned broadly as she sprang to her feet. “This calls for more wine, not less. I had a phase when I was younger when I was determined to be able to say I’ve had hair every color of the rainbow. Trust me, drinking and gossiping is an important part of the process.”
In the bedroom, Taveare poured two glasses of wine before she prepped the dye and tools. “Go ahead and change into something old.” A smirk. “Or you could be naked.”
Taveare was almost disappointed that Minthara didn’t take her up on the offer and changed into an old threadbare tunic.
“Isn’t that mine?” She teased.
“It is. It is also already stained.” Minthara sat down on the chair that Taveare had set beside the table, took her glass and frown as she looked into the bowl of dark blue goo. “This is much too dark. It was meant to be the color of the sky.”
“Trust me, it never looks the same in the end product” Taveare gave the mixture one more swirl to ensure it was properly mixed. “Any reason for choosing blue?”
“Were you listening? Not just blue, the color of the sky. The same endless sky that I look on with wonder every day. The same sky that I once feared would swallow me whole.”
The same sky that surely reminded her of the old life she had lost.
Taveare took the end of a comb and began to section out a piece of hair, but Minthara flinched at her touch. “Why so tense? It’s only hair.”
“Hesitations from old feelings are hard to kill. It feels deeply wrong to modify the appearance of a superior form. Ignore those hesitations, they are from a past I wish to leave behind.”
“Your ears are pierced, why doesn’t that count?” Taveare began to paint on the dye, section by section.
“I would hardly call that a change to my appearance.”
“Then where do you draw the line? I’ve seen more Drow cocks than I care to, and almost every wizard was circumcised.”
“Wizards are eccentric with odd customs,” Minthara explained with a beleaguered sigh, as if stating something very obvious.
Taveare found a meditative rhythm sectioning and painting her partner’s hair, until she looked with a frown at the small amount of dye left in the bowl and huffed.
“The noises you make hardly inspire confidence,” Minthara grumbled.
“It’s just that you have so much hair…”
“And not enough dye, I presume?”
“It might be! Or if not, your blue sky will have a few clouds. I’ll make sure it looks nice, I promise.” Taveare stopped her work and stepped in front of Minthara and look at her with pleading eyes. “If not I’ll fix it.”
“If it does not turn out, I will not be asking for further assistance from you.”
“Trust me, I’ve learned plenty from mistakes I made on my own head. And, besides, I trusted you to fix my hair when I was low and felt grotesque, or had you forgotten?”
“I haven’t. It felt like another lifetime, but I could never forget seeing the hurt you felt and my need to soothe it.”
It did feel like a different lifetime, but Taveare remembered it vividly. She had panicked over the change in her appearance after accepting the astral tadpole and frantically cut off her hair. Minthara had been a calm, grounding presence who tidied the mess she had made and neatened her choppy, uneven hair.
Taveare painted on the last dregs of dye and clipped up Minthara’s hair. “There.” The lower layers were left untouched and would remain their natural off-white. Taveare was confident the two-tone look would be lovely. “Now, wait a bit, drink your wine, and try not to let you head touch anything.” She smirked at the memory of pillowcases and clothing stained with color, her mother scolding her for it.
While Minthara began to drink her wine, Taveare removed her dye stained gloves and moved a chair over to sit across from Minthara. She grabbed her own glass, took a long sip to catch up, and leaned forward ready to listen.
“And now…” Minthara took another sip. “I suppose comes time for the gossip.”
“Well, in theory. The only trouble is all the gossip I have is to do with politics, and I’d rather leave that til morning.” She looked down at her glass and swirled the contents. “I think Mother is too bored without her music lessons. She’s been leaving out food for the stray cats, but it’s attracted opossums, and she’s been just as eager to befriend them.”
Minthara shook her head. “I cannot imagine a woman having so few worries in her life.”
“You think it might spice things up if I tried to kill her?” Taveare chuckled to herself before she took another sip.
“Without a doubt, though there would be no purpose to it.” A long silence passed before Minthara spoke again. “I received a letter from Triel.”
“Oh?” Taveare sat up straighter. “And how is she enjoying her apprenticeship in Waterdeep?”
“Far too much, I’m afraid. My child may well become a Wizard, but she is old enough to make her own decisions. I only wish she would make better ones.”
“I remember when my mother said that about me. In fact, I think she still says it when she’s alone.” Taveare drank down her remaining wine. “Enough time has passed.”
They went to the basin to rinse the excess dye from Minthara’s hair: thick dark blue paste dissolving to reveal a hue that was both light and vibrant. Taveare regretted not following her own advice about changing into old clothes, as splashes from the rinse water dotted her pale pink silk gown with blue.
Minthara towel dried the excess water from her hair and went the the mirror. She stood and studied herself: curious with a change that seemed very novel as she ran her fingers through her damp hair and examined the color.
“You’ve done well.” She noted. “Thank you.”