Who: Alak Tarr alak & Jill Mastrano Dragomir surpriseroyal What: New Hair Day When: Saturday, September 24, midday Where: Private Salon Rating: General Audiences Warnings: An alien meets a vampire only not exactly since it's The OC, baby. Okay. Fine. I doubt there's any real reason to put a warning on here. Status: Complete Upon Posting
~*~
Stylists were considered in the same light as priests in some ways. People told them their secrets with an expectation of a Code of Silence between them. Alak had known his stylist since he'd arrived in America. She had changed salons a few times since then and the current place she worked out of was exclusive enough he'd never have gotten in if it hadn't been for their long-standing relationship. Being a DJ paid enough to get him by on his own, but Alak was a far cry from a privileged son of a wealthy family the way he'd grown up.
He had chosen his life for himself.
That was worth the sacrifice of a few luxuries.
"Yeah, I'm sure I just want blue. The last thing I want is to give Baby a reason to tell customers to approach me to 'Taste the rainbow.' Blue. Just blue."
Currently, Alak was annoyed she was pushing him to try to broaden his range for his already wild hair. The blue streaks in the white strands stood out vividly enough. Why did he want to add pink and purple to the mix? She was rambling about fades and cascades and something about the Aurora Borealis while all he wanted to do was tell her to please shut up and do his highlights so he could get back to mixing tracks already. His podcast was behind a week thanks to the issues he'd been having with adapting to life as a Casti among humans. Alak didn't want to be rude, but seriously? Could she not already?
"Hvatit! Enough, okay? I get it. You want a guinea pig. Normally I'd be all for it. Right now I've got enough going on. Please let it go."
Russian was her native language as well. He supposed it was one of the things which bound them together so well on a professional level. She rolled her eyes and threw up her hands before hustling away to get the blue dye. The silence was peaceful enough to have Alak closing his eyes in gratitude. He relaxed against the sink where she'd wash his hair as soon as she was ready. Another customer was being led to the sinks to be left at his side. Alak wondered if she was getting exactly what she wanted with her hair or if her stylist was pushing her for a space age job.
Turning his head to look at her, Alak asked, "Is your stylist trying to convince you to be the next fashion craze with your hair or are you lucky enough to have someone unopinionated?"
~*~
Even in hiding and constantly followed by a small battalion of bodyguards, Jill was liking living in California a lot more than where she was before. Here, she didn't have to observe proper protocol and display princessly etiquette at all times. Some girls loved that kind of thing, but Jill suspected they'd be much less enamoured with the idea if they’d had to live it day in and day out for three years. In fact, if Lissa told her that she should just stay in America, Jill wouldn't be too heartbroken. She could finish her Performing Arts degree and maybe go back to New York.
But for now, California would have to do. And that meant doing mundane things in California, like getting a haircut at a salon she never would've been able to afford as Jill Mastrano. There were some perks to this princess business.
She settled in her chair, with one of her bodyguards Lara casually reading a magazine within close proximity, and smiled at the young man who'd just spoken. He was cute, in an aloof, self-assured way.
“I don't know,” she admitted. “It's my first time here.” She lifted her chin to indicate his hair. “Was that your idea or your stylist’s?”
***
"Mine. Blue is my favorite color. I'm lucky enough to have an employer who could care less about appearance as long as I do my job."
Alak didn't notice the bodyguard had followed the woman. He was used to the salon being packed with people who seemed to serve absolutely no purpose other than to be creative choices in decor. Sometimes the decor chose to talk with him -usually those were students trying to get their observation hours done- but mostly they kept to themselves. His life had been filled up with paranoia from an early age; Alak had chosen to never let it infect his own thoughts the way it preoccupied the minds of his parents.
The world was what it was and he was living in it. Better to be busy living than busy dying.
Something about her made Alak wonder if she was used to the type of salon they were in. She seemed---uncertain somehow in a way most women in elite locales were not. California Girls were their own distinct group among the masses of women; Alak had a tendency to enjoy their boldness while being appalled at it in the same breath. Her accent didn't seem familiar to him either, but that didn't mean much. He wasn't very good at determining origin based on accent after years of listening to people trained in vocal arts to mimic anyone, anywhere, any time they wanted.
"Was this place your idea or a friend's? You don't seem the usual type I see here."
~*~
Jill’s smile faded into a look of worry. “I don't?”
Of course she didn't. She'd grown up in a modest New York borough, and even with all the comportment lessons she'd received over the past four years, she still felt out of place in anything that required a black card to enter. Never mind that she had every right to be here, never mind that the man with the bright blue hair seemed just as out of place as she felt; she had been told she had to fit in and not draw attention lest someone connected her to her true identity. Besides, after four years of feeling decidedly out of place, Jill thought she was finally belonging. To have a complete stranger peg her as otherwise shook her confidence.
“It's my first time here,” she explained. “I mean, not that I couldn't have before - well, I couldn't have because I wasn't in California before. I mean, to come here. I visited California once, but I moved here just a few weeks ago, and I needed a haircut and this had good Yelp reviews and oh my god I'm babbling again, aren't I?”
It all came out in one breath.
***
Alak couldn't help feeling surprised at the sudden change in the girl's demeanor. She had gone from mildly interesting to endearing all in one speech. He tried to school his expression, working on relaxing his face from the shocked expression he knew she had to see. His eyebrows were still dark due enough to draw attention when they rose almost all the way into his pale hairline; Alak knew his eyes were too wide even as he started to wonder if he'd remembered his colored contacts for today's outing.
Casti eyes were easy to explain away with colored contacts, but if anyone looked too close? They'd see he wasn't wearing any. Given how close the stylist was to him, Alak hadn't wanted to run the risk. It had meant using part of the disguise his mother had suggested. She had suggested wigs and cosmetics as well. Alak had tried a spray tan once only to feel even more of an imposter. Currently he was pale as a ghost with his pale hair and its blue streaks to mark him as someone other than normal society, yet Alak felt as if he were more comfortable in his skin than this girl.
What a strange thing to think given he was literally as alien as it came and she was only foreign to the area…
"You are babbling," he agreed, "I think it's cute. If that helps? I didn't mean to rattle you. I've just been in the OC long enough to know most people and I've known my stylist since she was renting a chair at a training school. This place doesn't make reservations for just anyone and you don't seem the celeb type or the entitled rich girl either. It made me curious. Now? I'm really curious. I'm Alak. Consider me your first new friend in Orange County----?"
He let his voice trail off with the obvious question dangling between them for her to fill in her name for him.
~*~
He thought it was cute! A cute boy with obviously enough confidence to pull off that great unique look thought she was cute! Jill started to smile again, although it was still hesitant. He thought she - or at least her babbling - was cute, but he was still astute enough to realize she wasn’t the usual clientele for this place, and now he was curious. That was probably not a good combination. She’d been warned against inciting curiosity, and now she’d gone and done it within three minutes of meeting someone.
Granted, she kind of wanted him to be curious. Because she was certainly curious about him.
“Jill,” she supplied, extending her hand. “I’m from New York. We’re a different kind of breed there.”
Lara had made that wry remark at some point or another, and at the time Jill had argued hotly that she was not of a different breed, thank you very much. Now, however, she shamelessly stole it to explain why she looked so different.
***
Alak sat up to take her hand gently, not worried what she'd think about his pale skin and colorless nails, "I'm originally from Moscow. Though I haven't been to New York, I do know what it's like to be a different breed."
His smile was secretive as he squeezed her hand before releasing it. Alak had full lips which he knew how to work to his advantage. Some of his appearance was off-putting to people now. The pale skin and hair and eyes were part and parcel to being Castithan, but his facial features had remained largely unchanged. His other hand had a scar on it from his father's idea of teaching life lessons. Alak was learning to be comfortable with himself while learning he wasn't the only person who had comfort issues.
It was strange to think he'd met a girl who was having similar issues in a place where women were largely in charge.
"I chose to come to California because I love music. I'm an American citizen now, but I remember what it was like when I first got here. Everything was strange. Everyone I met seemed to be speaking a different language not just literally but figuratively. I didn't have a lot of luck finding people to volunteer to be my tour guides. If you need one yourself? I call this place home now. I'd be glad to show you around while you're still getting used to being in Orange County."
The offer came from a genuine place for Alak. He didn't want Jill to think he was hitting on her simply because she was a pretty girl who was in the right place at the right time for him, but he didn't want to say too much either. Sometimes it was better to let people come to their own conclusions. While his parents were the paranoid types who couldn't trust anyone, Alak knew most normal people came to get the right idea all on their own if given the opportunity.
~*~
Instead of being put off by his odd appearance, Jill found it intriguing. There was a certain look people followed wherever they were from; in California, it was tan, buff bodies and sun-bleached hair. Alak didn’t follow the norm and he obviously didn’t care. For a girl who’d been raised to conform, it was very different and very exciting.
It didn’t hurt that he had a really nice smile, and she felt herself blush. “I wouldn’t have known you were from Russia,” she said. “And thank you for the offer. That’s really nice of you. I haven’t been here for very long, but…” Her gaze travelled to Lara, who was doing a very good job of looking immersed in her magazine, but who was probably observing everything that was going on there.
She retracted her hand. Anyone who spent time in her company was probably going to get investigated, but why give them a reason to do extra digging right off the bat? She wanted to spend some time with this boy before someone dug up something on him and tell her she shouldn’t be hanging around him.
She turned back to him and smiled. “I would love a tour guide.”
***
Studying music involved training in vocal arts. Music wasn't a hobby for Alak any more than acting was a hobby for most of the people who lived near LA to be close to the studios. He had trained in vocal arts, music theory, studied tone quality and pitch, and learned to be more than slightly accomplished at several instruments. A distinct accent could be off-putting to a listener base. Alak had worked hard to avoid his own coming out until his every day speech was as close to region-free as any person's could be.
Colloquialisms gave away a person's roots quicker than an accent nine times out of ten.
"Thank you. I work hard to avoid the accent. I'm still fluent in Russian. It comes out when I least want it to if you catch my meaning."
His stylist came back with the dye as he was trying to determine who had caught Jill's eye. There were too many strays hanging around in the salon for him to decide before he was being pushed back while Russian vitriol rained down on him. For a moment, Alak almost wished he'd let her do multiple colors only to keep her from being such a witch. It was only the idea of having to deal with some of the more outlandish of The Need/Want's staff which kept the thought at bay.
Alak rolled his eyes at Jill as he apologized, "I'm sorry. It seems I've offended my stylist by refusing to be the next walking advertisement for Skittles. Here's my card. I do a podcast called Raider Radio. You can check out my channel on YouTube or hit me up on the local forum if you're a member of Valarnet."
He was able to fish a card from his vest pocket to offer with the hand closest to Jill's chair. It was nice the seats were close enough together he could still reach her even while reclining. Alak wasn't too surprised when his hand got slapped by his stylist as if she was offended by him networking in the salon. The place got by based on word-of-mouth and public reviews such as the Yelp site Jill had mentioned. In the court of public opinion, it was all about social engineering in terms of who succeeded and who failed in small business out in the OC.
This place would stay a success based on their attention to detail with every job they did and their exclusivity which was questionable in some cases -like in Jill's where she'd simply called in with no reference at all beyond an online review site- and not in others. Alak wasn't worried either way. He'd been with the same stylist so long there was no chance she'd dump him as a client. Even when his skin had blanched out, all she'd said was how much fun they could have doing even bolder things with his hair. People like her were worth the price of an exclusive salon fee.
"Just text me or give me a call. I'll be glad to come escort you around. I was raised a perfect gentleman. I promise."
~*~
And if he wasn't, Jill was sure one of her retinue would handle him. She hoped it wouldn't come to that, though. He did seem really nice, and she needed to keep her faith in humanity.
“Thanks,” she said, quickly reaching out to take his card. She didn't want to incur the wrath of his stylist as well.
It was then that the stylist assigned to her finally came up to her and started to talk about texture, alignment and grain. Wide-eyed, Jill turned her attention to the woman, though not before flashing one more smile at Alak. She had a feeling she was going to need to pay attention to this or else she'd end up with blue hair too.