[center][b]Shah’s Hair Day[/b][/center]

“NO!!” Shahari hissed, “No!”

She kept her body low and primed for action. Her position might have been quite intimidating, were she not completely soaked in soapy water and shivering like a leaf in the wind.

There were two Macaque-kin ladies - her handmaidens - cornering her, arms outstretched and fingers tensed menacingly. The shorter of the two inched closer. “Lady al-Fuhud-”

“No, no! Nahele-” Shahari shrunk back, ”Nahele said it wasn’t a ‘hair day’!” 

Nahele winced and stepped back.

“It was not a Hair Day.” The burlier woman’s voice echoed off the stone walls. “That is, until we found fruit in your hair, Lady al-Fuhud.” As if to make a point, the burly macaque reached out and picked a piece of orange out of the Lady’s unbelievably thick hair.

Shahari frowned.

“Mora, Shah’s Promised said that he enjoyed her floral scent!”

“My Lady, oranges are not flowers…” Nahele, the petite macaque, intervened. Shahari stared at her, eyes wide. 

“Shah knows! But she also thought - Oranges and Flowers are both plants, so…”

“...”

The two handmaidens exchanged a look. 

Slowly, Shahari relaxed. Mora, the burly macaque, grabbed Sharari by her arms and sat her down on a wooden stool that Nahele had taken the opportunity to set upright. Shahari perked her ears up at the same rate that her tail drooped and after the handmaidens had resumed washing her, she sighed.

“Shah is embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. We are here to protect your dignity and ensure your beauty, Lady al-Fuhud.” Mora reminded her as she grabbed Shahari’s favourite boar-bristle hair brush and started combing her hair… Only to immediately come upon a nasty tangle.

“We are just glad we managed to convince you to take a bath before leaving the Fang Wing today…” Nahele chimed in as she picked pieces of fruit out of Shahari’s hair.

“Shah is thankful. She needs all the help she can get. She does not… Fit well here.”

“Forgive me, My Lady, but that is nonsense. You are as much a part of this Palace’s entourage as the Ice Princess or the Verdant Sage are.” Mora emphasized her point by combing through yet another tangle.

“No other Lady would allow us to bathe with her, like you allow us to do with you. If I had my choice of a Lady, I would pick you every time, Lady al-Fuhud…” Nahele almost whispered, “N-Not that I would presume to doubt my assignment to you, of course.”

Shahari chuckled.

“But if you truly want to become more similar to the people who live in these lands, Lady al-Fuhud, then I would urge you to reconsider attending the Common Speech lessons regularly given by the Sage’s disciples. I must reiterate that the Three Selves are not known outside of the Sacred Plains.”

Shahari grumbled, this topic again? After a few seconds of silence, she managed to tame the growing frustration in her chest enough for her to speak once more. “... Shahari will reconsider, okay?”

Mora nodded and sped up her combing, while Nahele massaged a slimy potion into Shahari’s scalp.

[hider=Summary]
Shah is subjected to the cruel torture of an unscheduled Hair Wash Day.
[/hider]