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January's hair is almost translucent in the sunlight.
Soft, curving, elegant yet strong fibres as if made of thoughts.
And tied in a white ribbon, like lily on a harmless, everlasting fire.
Daughter unties January's hair.
"...Daughter?"
"Your hair is a mess. Let me do it."
Daughter runs his fingers over January's hair.
White in red, like fish flying in the dusk sky.
To become dragons, perhaps.
Metamorphosis.
Daughter went through twice in his life.
Once to become Daughter. To have power and means to achieve his vengeance.
And once again, to become human, not a spirit of vengeance or a victim.
He can feel January's presence wrapping him like a red silk cocoon.
But that second rebirth must be delayed, for now.
Vengeance is waiting.
Daughter brushes January's hair clean and ties it up.
One day, Daughter will lose himself in that sea of red silk, however short that day might be.
-end-