Ambushed!!! -Tahmelah!!

Perched in a hard wooden chair, Ramaes tried very hard not to squirm in misery. This morning, shortly after one of his daily lessons, Ramaes had had the misfortune of drawing the notice of one of the many high-and-mighty Accepted that roamed through the hallways for no apparent reason. She had made a noise that anyone else would have called an indignant squawk – but smart novice boys called ‘surprise’ – and had promptly informed him that he was not only a clumsy fool, but also in need of a haircut.

So, here he was, trapped under the steely eye of one of the Tower’s many servants, who seemed bent on making his mop of hair more ‘manageable’, whatever that meant. Strangely, servants in the White Tower, despite the fact that novices could channel and set them on fire (not that he would ever do such a thing!), regarded the young students in almost the same fashion as a farmwife regarded children: sometimes worth a smile and a pat on the head, but mostly underfoot at completely the wrong time. It didn’t seem to matter one whit that Ramaes was nearing his seventeenth nameday, the servants still treated him, and every other novice, like they were six years old.

“Quit your squirming, boy, I’m almost done. Do you want shorter ears to go with this mop you call hair? No? Then be still.” Grimacing, Ramaes tried to do as he was told, despite the fact that he hadn’t had a proper haircut in at least two years – not since Valerie had decided the very same thing that Miss Accepted Know-It-All had. The snipping blades moved around his head, guided by an obviously expert hand – did the female novices have to put up with this? – for another five minutes before Ramaes was released to look at his own reflection.

Light, his hair was short. In comparison, at least. Now he reminded himself of one of the Gaidin, and based on the wide grin that the middle-aged servant woman was giving him, that effect had been the precise one she’d had in mind when she started cutting.

“Now, off with you! I am sure you have some chores to do.” Ramaes scrambled off the chair, almost upending it in his haste to flee the nameless servant who wielded scissors as if they were shears for sheep, half-running down the corridors, fully intent on hiding himself in his room until his hair grew back out. Cutting it as short as one of those Gaidin-in-Training! Light! All it did was make his head look big – or so he thought.

Too bad, so sad, Ramaes-the-hairless-novice ran full-tilt into another novice, who would likely do something particularly violent if anyone mentioned her fiery red hair, let alone cut it off. Or maybe she’d enjoy short hair, who knew?

The words that flew to his lips almost choked him before he managed to avoid saying them. There were a lot of curses that shouldn’t be uttered in the pristine halls of the White Tower, and Ramaes knew most of them. Instead, he settled for a strangled version of the word ‘hello’, and tried to make it appear as if he hadn’t just lost all of his hair and nearly trampled an innocent bystander.

Y hallo thar. I thought we could start with a crash-bang. =D