Happy Friday. where I am it is overcast and feels like I may have gotten up a few hours too early. So the coffee is brewing and hopefully it and the writing prompt will work in tandem to clear my brain so it isn’t as cloudy as the day. So let’s begin. Timers set and pens at the ready. Let’s go, I’ll see you in fifteen.
Okay that was a fun one. I can actually see this character and want to find a storey to put him into. I have no idea what story would be appropriate, but i will find one.
Friday, December 4th: His mustache was thick and luxurious.
His mustache was thick and luxurious. He was proud of it and proud of how neatly he kept it. It was a fine line. The mustache must be allowed to grow and given all it needed to remain luxurious, but it must be kept tame. He could not tolerate it being unkempt.
That simply would not do.
He knew what the others thought of him. How could he not?
Where he came from the growing of the mustache and beard were a sign of virility. It was a mark of prestige among the men of his people. Only the slaves went around bare faced. Or had when his people kept slaves. That had not been for several generations, not since the treaty with the Gredaldo in his great, great, great grandfather’s day.
Though the slaves were long gone, the stigma of a bare face remained. However much many of their allies in this day and age considered a bare, clean shaven face appropriate.
Here they considered facial hair a mark of barbarism.
When he was assigned a post as ambassador he was taken aside by the village elders. It was vital to the wellbeing of the people that friendly relations be maintained. That he make a good impression and convince their newest allies that the people were not unkempt barbarians.
There was a long list of things he was not supposed to do while with their allies. Most of which were standard among the people although a few things seemed strange. Over all it didn’t seem like too much a price to pay. He was eager for the new experiences serving as ambassador would reveal to him, curious about the world outside of their borders. He was excited and proud to be chosen. None of the restrictions seemed strange until the end.
He remembered the Council leader almost blushing with shame when he talked of it. He would not be allowed to keep his beard if he went among the outsiders. The people would not require that he become clean shaven like those who were once their slaves, but he could not keep the beard. Instead he would be shaved bear the mustaches worn by the priests.
It would be an almost holy transformation.
As sad as he was to see his beard go, he felt a sort of pride and awe at the thought of the sacredness of the mustaches, or at least what they represented. The removal of his beard was a ceremonial thing. He was placed in a chair in the center of town. All gathered to watch the transformation as the priests gathered round and turned it into a ritual. They watched in silent awe as he was transformed. After, even those who he had known all his life gazed at him with awe and respect. After, when the crowds dispersed, he was given a lecture on the care of his mustache, what he must do to keep it trimmed and tidy so that it would not lead others into thoughts of barbarism. He was given a small kit to aid in his efforts. The small comb was intricately carved bone inlayed with silver chasing, a work of art in itself.
Ten til Midnight 