jocelyn-kingâ:
Joss was combing her fingers through her hair mindlessly, in an effort, albeit mostly in vain, to tame it so that she might be able to pull it into somewhat of a neat bun and away from her face and neck. She didnât like the humidity in the jungle, she felt like she was sweating more now than she had on the beach or even in the cave and she just felt sticky. Always sticky.Â
âWhat the fuck?â she said out loud as her fingers snagged on a knot in her long hair and pulled out a clump of strands as she pulled them away. She stared at the hair for a moment or so before shaking it off of her hand and letting it fall to the ground, âGreat,â she chimed, âMy roots are showing, my skin is falling off, Iâve got a break out on my chin and now Iâm going fucking bald- next my bloody teeth are going to fall out,â she whined, frustrated with the weekâs events and the unpleasantness of their new campâs locations. âIâm so over this,â she muttered to herself.Â
She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself and moved closer to the center of camp then,Â
âCan somebody braid my hair please?â
x
Zoya had an opinion on everything and everyone, but Joss was probably one of the few people who constantly fluctuated. She was...fluid, for the lack of a better word, while also staying consistent in being that way. It was plain and simple...different. And as Zoya was now on a mission to figure out her fellow Eves, she loved the idea of learning more about the exact ways in which this âdifferentâ appeared in all of them. And loved that she finally got a chance to do so with Joss.Â
As the other complained about things which Zoya would describe as trivial, she found herself chuckling gently at the way those complaints were delivered. There was something oddly humorous about Joss, even when she was being serious. âWell praise Lord for bestowing such hardship on you and not the rest of us, I mean, all of that and youâre till a ten? Must be nice.â she then approached, knowing full-well she did not know first thing about braiding hair and this endeavour would probably end up with a shaved head or a massive matted hair lock. âIâll do it, idle hands are the devils workshop after all.â






