Tears Of Sadness.
"I didn't want to seem… odd," Jean admitted with a chuckle, guiding her lady to sit on the cushioned stool before the mirror. "But tonight seemed like the right moment."
As Jean began to comb Salviana's long, fiery locks, the room fell into a tranquil silence. The comb moved gently through the strands, each stroke deliberate and careful, as if Jean were handling the most precious silk.
"You're good at this," Salviana murmured, her eyes growing heavy. The repetitive motion and the soft sound of the comb gliding through her hair were enough to make her drowsy.
Jean smirked, keeping her gaze on the task. "Years of practice, Your Grace. It's oddly calming, isn't it?"
"Very," Salviana admitted, leaning back slightly. "You could make a career of this if you ever tire of waiting on me."
Jean laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. Though I can't imagine leaving your side. Who else would make sure you survive the chaos you attract?"