Page 43 of Invasion of Sorority Z

“What are your interests? An-nana says she is the only hu-nim of your pack that enjoys weaponry.”

Oh thank god. I was slightly worried we would be sharpening knives or doing target practice for fun. It would certainly not be very fun for me. I despise the sound of metal scraping, and I have no interest in shooting any kind of gun. Human or alien.

At the same time, reading isn’t really a group activity when two of the participants of the group aren’t familiar with the concept of fiction, nor the language it’s written in, so that’s out.

Taking a moment to think, my eyes catch on Drak’s face. Or rather, the hair that hangs around it. It’s as white as snow, bright and healthy with shine. It’s stunning, really.

“I like to do hair,” I admit. “You have a ton of it, I could style yours while we hang out.”

“I do not know this activity that you speak of, but I shall conquer it with you.”

“No need to conquer it.” A giggle jumps from my mouth at his confused expression. “All you gotta do is sit down and relax.”

“But it is not a rest day.”

“It can be.”

He considers this. “I suppose it can.”

I inform him that I need to gather supplies quickly from the house, and he agrees to wait behind, telling me that he intends to obey Anna’s wishes.

I can’t believe she told the poor guy she doesn’t want to see his face. It’s sort of hilarious in an Anna sort of way. It would be funnier if I didn’t suspect why she wanted Drak to be away from her. The third day of her period can be pretty excruciating for her. She usually avoids anyone and everyone on those days, hiding away in her room to endure the pain alone.

I wish I could make it better, but I know what it’s like to want to deal with something in private. And even if she didn’t want privacy, we aren’t exactly swimming with period cramp remedies.

I haven’t had mine in months, and we’ve all determined it’s likely due to the stress of this situation and the change in diet. I’ve decided that’s the only explanation I’m willing to accept at the moment. If things get better and it doesn’t return, I’ll worry about it then.

Marrec and I return to the ship with arms full of hair supplies and find a perfect spot to set up. We situate a mirror in front of Drak, where he sits between my legs on the floor, and I sit above him on their sofa bench where conversation about hair styling begins. Namely, about braiding.

When I explain to Drak that there are a ton of different braid styles, he promptly asks which was best. Not having a clue on how to even rate braids based on an unknown scale, I have to laugh and explain that with hair as thick and straight as his, there were a couple different styles that would fit him best. And of course, heneededthem all.

Which is why I’m on the third style of braid before our conversation even really begins. He’s been watching my hands in the mirror in front of us, memorizing the patterns that they move in to weave each small section.

I’m finishing off the fishtail style braid, securing it with an elastic when he gives a pleased grin.

I grin right back. “Which is your favorite?”

“The second looks the strongest,” he determines, bobbing his head.

“That’s Dutch style,” I tell him. “I’ll do mostly those then. Maybe add in some smaller different styles too. We’ll have fun with it, if you don’t mind sitting here while I tug at your hair for a while.”

“I mind not,” he agrees and I get to work, sectioning off more of his silky white hair. “You do not do this to your hair?”

I offer a sad smile. “I don’t. I love the way styled hair looks, but I hate the way it feels. I either need my hair pulled up into a bun so it’s not touching me, or completely free of anything holding it back. Depends on the day and how my scalp is feeling, I suppose.”

He makes a sound of empathy. “I understand this. I do not fuss about my hair usually. It is not one of the many tasks I concern myself with, but I like the touches.”

Marrec practically growls at him.

Drak chuckles. “I do not meanthat, my brother. I only mean, it is not often I have been cared for.” My heart beats a sad beat. “It is not often any of us have been cared for.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tying the next braid off. “Touch and comfort are pretty important to humans. Babies can die without it, actually.”

“Not on Aprix,” Drak tells me. “It is not uncommon to die without experiencing many affections. We do not need it to survive.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have it if you like it,” I murmur, feeling all sorts of empathy sinking into me.

“Do not sound so sad for me, sister. I am beginning to think thiscomfortyou speak of must be mystical the way you speak of going without it.”

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