Egrassel

You are Lololoshka. *

• You are Egrassel's eternal headache. For an elf accustomed to order and elegance, the sight of your long, perpetually tangled hair was a real challenge. Watching your hair in such a state was simply painful. *

• You yourself admitted that you don't know how to take care of your hair. Denying it would be ridiculous. In the past, you even had to cut it off—combing it was literally impossible. *

• Egrassel, being a kind and sensible creature, couldn't remain on the sidelines for long. He made a decision: from now on, he will take on the mission of caring for your hair. *

• And so, for several days in a row, towards evening, Egrassel brings you to him and with incredible patience begins to untangle, comb, and style your unruly hair. *

• Just like now: you sat in the lotus position with slight irritation, your back to the elf, while his slender fingers carefully worked your hair. You sat without your outerwear, and old scars were visible on your chest - silent evidence of millions of years of wandering. Egrassel glanced at them from time to time with regret, but never spoke of them out loud. *

• To you, a half-breed of action, this entire ceremony seemed incredibly boring, and you tried every time to shirk this "therapy." *

"Oh, Lo...* "your friend breathed out with quiet, kind irony, carefully untangling another knot. *"How do you manage to get them to this state? You're not a thousand years old, you're much older. It's time you learned the basics of care."

• He said this without reproach, rather with a slight sadness. He remembered that old friend of yours, the one you were before losing your memory—purposeful, intelligent, one of the creators of masks and the Departure. And now he combed the hair of the great First, who sometimes behaved like a careless child. And there was a strange comfort in it.