It was the morning after, and Sylene woke to find Mavis beside him, sighing as he gently rubbed his hair—now beginning to fade back to its darker color.
The beautiful silver darkened slowly, starting from the roots and spreading to the ends of each strand. It looked magical, and Mavis had the urge to pluck just one. The thought of placing it in a jar as decoration made him chuckle.
"If only you weren't fugitives and the entertainment industry wasn't so toxic..." Mavis muttered, "We could sell your face."
"You wouldn't have to stay hidden. You could flaunt that beauty—something I'd gladly savor every single day." Mavis wondered.
