Come Bask In the Wonder of My Hair (Jormungandr)

[legolas]

Legolas had decided that it was time to practice his archery. Of course, Legolas didn't really need to practice his wartime skills or work out or even brush his hair: he was naturally like this, but the elf liked to show off, so of course, he did all of these 'tasks' in plain view of everyone in a location that would attract maximum attention.

So that was why he had set up a brightly-painted archery target and was stringing his bow with not one, not two, but three arrows for his warmup and drawing back the string. It was at an impossible distance from the target, but he calmly let his arrows fly and they landed in a neat triangle, the middle arrow piercing the bullseye. He tossed his hair and reached for four arrows this time, pricking up his ears in case of any approaching fans.

[Deleted]

Jor wasn't fond of weapons. Well, being a snake didn't exactly warrant the use of weapons in general, and lots of people used weapons against him, so a distaste for weaponry was not unwarranted.

And yet, he found himself forced into taking a self-defense class. Apparently it was required in the school's curriculum, and there was no way out of it. So, much to his dismay, he'd been forced to sign up for a class. Naturally, he'd chosen archery, since it didn't involve close combat. He'd quickly discovered that he was terrible. The teacher, who had been quite disappointed in his lack of skill, had told him to come to the field after class for practice.

And that was why he was here now. Jor trudged across the grass, truly hating his life at the moment. He'd managed to scrounge up a bow and a few arrows, and he was trying to find something to shoot.

A twang from behind him alerted his attention. Jor turned around in time to see not one, but three arrows strike a nearby target. He gaped stupidly at the target before regaining his composure. Turning around, he looked for the person who had fired the arrows, finally noticing a long-haired man standing an impossible distance away. "Nice shot," he called out, trying to keep the admiration from his tone. "Can you do it again, though?"

[legolas]

Not only being an elf, but being him, gave Legolas the ability to know when people were approaching and only left him with the decision of whether or not to flog them repeatedly across the face with his golden hair, which he had magically left long and flowing today. So, logically, he knew that a male-person of divine heritage was approaching him, but he ignored him. He was no threat: his footsteps were too heavy and he didn't have hair half as fabulous as the elf's, but this was less out of superhuman hearing and more about Legolas' vanity. After all, who could ever dream of having better hair than him?

When he finally did pirouette his body around melodramatically, (adding an extra hair-toss in there for effect...and because he could) Legolas adopted a cool, confident tone in response to the boy's challenge. On a note of interest, he actually possessed hair that Legolas could do something with, provided he was left alone with it and a mountain of products for a few hours. Without saying anything, he strung three arrows in his bow and repeated the same shot, splitting all three of his previous arrows down their centers as his new arrows claimed their territory. He was Legolas, after all.

"Your hair is in grave need of conditioner."

[Deleted]

Jor couldn't help but gape again as the next three arrows sliced cleanly through the previous three arrows. What the hell was this man? He didn't have the aura of a god, but he most certainly wasn't human. He glanced down at his own bow, narrowing his eyes at the devilish contraption and wondering how the hell one could get so good with the damn weapon.

But he was more taken aback by the man's next comment. "Excuse me?" he questioned, directiong a quizzical look at the archer. He ruffled his own hair, wondering what could have brought up such a change of conversation. Sure, his hair was a bit... greasy, but what did that matter? Humans had some strange habits, like cleaning daily. Really, there was no reason to stay so clean.

Dropping his hand to his side, he frowned at the archer. "What's wrong with my hair?" he growled, not liking the man's attitude. "And what is this 'conditioner' that you speak of?"