Chapter Text
“So, let me get this straight-” I could hear the frustration in Blitzen's voice, but I could also tell he was making an effort to keep an even tone. “You found out last month, and you tell me now , when there's only three weeks until the wedding?”
“Two.”
“Is that supposed to make it better?”
“...No.”
A wedding means my friend Blitzen has actually demanded to make me an outfit to wear to it, as unhappy as he was at first. He’s never failed me before, especially not when it comes to fashion, so I figure I’ll let him help me rather than possibly embarrassing myself. I want to make a good impression.
Blitzen is stuck between a pale forest green and a light gray. I don’t care, but he does.
“Honestly, the gray is plainer, but it looks better on you. You’re not tan enough for this green. Besides, the green just isn’t as happy. You’re going to a wedding, not a funeral.”
I sigh. He can explain the right choices and combinations, and I still don’t care. I’d be perfectly happy if he just decided it without me. But I like listening to him talk about fashion. It makes him happy, and that makes me happy.
“Alright, last choice.”
”Hm?”
”What do you think? Sage or lavender?”
I waste no time. “Sage.”
He tsks , smiling. “I knew you’d pick that one.”
”Oh really? How’d you know?” It’s not that I don’t like purple, or that it’s a ‘girl color’ or some shit like that. I just don’t think I look good in it, even if Blitz tells me otherwise.
“Do you hate purple? Is that what this is about?” He teases. “It’s a very versatile color!”
”Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
It descends into chaos, my friend extolling the virtues of certain colors, using plenty of jargon I can’t understand.
It takes a fair amount of time to wind down.
My hallmates have gathered to help me get ready before a Social Event. I do appreciate it, but when a berserker is trying to coerce you into letting him braid your hair, it becomes a cross between endearing and threatening. Mostly the former.
I am not the fastest nor the strongest member of my hall. After Halfborn’s efforts to coerce me fail, he enlists the help of my girlfriend’s belovedly unstable half-brother. He is the fastest and strongest member of our hall, easily outrunning any attempt to escape from the help of my friends, and soon catching me as I try to retreat back to my room, carrying me off to the lounge near our hallway.
Stop fighting me. He signs patiently as I try to fight him.
No! I shake my head. Don’t ruin my outfit!
He squints at me, obviously figuring it’s an excuse so he can’t keep messing with me.
He slowly sets me down on a couch, brushing his hands off. I didn’t ruin your outfit! He announces proudly, teasing me.
Jazz hands. Effectively meaning: yay! Sometimes, I think his signing is passive-aggressive. I’ve started to notice him picking things up from Hearthstone. It’s cute, honestly, that he’s making friends. It’s also just a little weird that both of the Deaf people I interact with on a daily basis look like some god copy-and-pasted the same person into a different time and place.
At last, now that I am securely stationed on the sofa with a pair of berserkers split up, one in front and one behind me, Halfborn starts on my hair.
“Aw…” he coos, “you have Swedish hair, that’s cute.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sometimes he just says weird shit for no reason. Half the time he thinks it’s entirely normal.
“It’s so fine, and thin, but also thick? Your hair is terrible for snow and wind, it’d get tangled too easily, and doesn’t insulate well.”
“Yeah, I know. ”
“Shut up. I’m trying my best.”
“Do you get much practice?”
“Well, I used to do my mother’s hair, and one timeTJ let me do his, and I do Mallory’s all the time, so yes, I get a lot of practice.” I wonder what happened that one time.
When he finally finishes, he straightens it out one last time before releasing me, and I’m all too happy that it’s over. Vikings don’t have tender scalps, it seems, and Halfborn didn’t account for me not being him .
All my friends have gathered now, even the living ones having shown up for some last-minute reassurances.
Vali stares at me as I get up, blank faced. At last he passes judgment. Spin.
Mallory echoes him, unaware of what he just signed. “Give us a twirl, beantown.”
I reluctantly obey, slowly turning. I’m not wearing a dress, so a spin doesn’t have the same effect.
Alex wolf-whistles, always my cheerleader, but even more so when he thinks I need the encouragement. “You look great!”
Sam, although she’s gotten less anxious over the years, is still (one of) the mom friends. Blitzen is the other, and you’re lucky if Hearth offers any advice. Social interaction is not his strong suit.
“You’ve got the address, right?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know about how many people will be there?”
“She said between 250 to 300.”
They all exchange glances.
“Yeah, I know. ”
“How are you getting there?”
“I’m gonna take the train.”
Alex snorts. “Good luck with that, babe.”
“What?”
“No no no, take the train, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He tries to brush it off, and I don’t think I like the slightly ominous feeling from that comment..