Drying Hair

A faint, uncomfortable sensation surges within me, igniting a curiosity about the enigmatic figure known as Akmini.

My eyebrows furrowed as I stared at Iravan, who risked going on the land to search for someone.

Is it a mother, sister, friend, or lover?

I pushed those reactions behind a locked door in response to Iravan's words. It has nothing to do with me.

Iravan looked at me as if he sensed something.

Narrowing my eyes as I wondered if he could've sensed the shift of my emotion.

Iravan watches me with those unfathomable eyes as he speaks once more, "Alkmini, my sister."

In the corner of my mind, could he read people's minds? I shaken my head before asking, "What happened to your sister?"

The communication is going to be a problem since I could recognize the confusion in his expression when he doesn't understand my words.

What language do sirens speak in? Do they speak at all? If not, how do they communicate?

I looked towards Jonathan as I wondered what we should do with the language barrier.

I turned toward Iravan as I heard his approaching footsteps before he stopped towards me.

I felt uneasy at his close proximity; I could see his royal blue wet, damp hair that hangs below his black eyes. 

"Jonathan, do you have a towel? I need one." I asked as Iravan was staring at our interaction.

Jonathan looked toward me as if he were uncertain about the idea of leaving me with the siren alone.

Regardless, I stayed firm in my stance before he decided to go into the hall.

Iravan watched the door make a clicking noise before looking at my hair with curiosity. 

I'm starting to think that he has some strange fascination since he seems to like staring at my hair. 

Having an dark pink is a strange color, some people think it's dye, but it's my natural hair color.

He was about to raise his left webbed hands until I said something, "Hey, Iravan. Could you do something about your hand?"

I made a demonstration by pointing at his razor-sharp nails, as he seems to have an understanding of what I'm trying to ask.

I watch his razor-sharp nails become a regular, normal size in a few seconds. 

I stared in fascination at how his fingers could transform so easily. His fingers cautiously reach towards my dark pink hair, where it flows down my back.

He touches my hair in a childlike manner, as if he had never seen something like this.

Why was he fascinated with my hair? Is it the color, texture, or something else? The bottom part of my hair lays within his pale hands as he rubs it with such gentleness that I could barely feel the sensation. 

As I heard the sound of the door open, I knew Jonathan was back. Jonathan stopped in front of me before looking into Iravan's eyes.

Iravan tilts his head at the towels in Jonathan's hands. He grabbed the towel from his hands before he started to look at it in interest. 

I shook my head as I grabbed the towel from his hands. I realized that Iravan has so much to learn. 

With a soft sigh, "Iravan, go sit down on the bed." His eyebrows started furrowing once again before I started to point at the bed.

With an understanding, he went to sit in the bed. I approached before I stopped next to his damped hair.

Iravan flinched when he felt the soft material on the top of his head but relaxed when he looked into my eyes. 

As I started to rub his hair, I could feel the soft and wet texture of his dark blue hair. 

Jonathan yawned before telling us, "Kids, it looks like you got it. I'll be going back and getting some sleep."

As he left the room, Iravan and I were left alone once again.