Gray Hairs

[CappnRob]

Spoiler:

              Cristovao awoke early this morning, during that short hour when the sun has just barely begun to rise. He stood in the dimly lit washroom as hazy bluish-grey light crept in through the wooden blinds of the window beside him, saturating the walls with a soft sense of tranquility. Hunching himself over the sink, he gazed at his reflection in the mirror.

              Diwaata smiles a little. "How... long humans live?", she asked slowly with her heavily accented voice.

              "Maybe seventy or eighty years? Some make it to over a hundred", Cristovao replied with a smile.

              The draenei did not smile back. She lowered her eyes and mumbled, "So short... how old are you, Kuristobao?"

              The paladin paused in confusion and thought to himself. "Hm? Oh... twenty-six, I think? Or was it twenty-seven?"

              Diwaata's mouth opens with a gasp, covering it with her blue hands. "You not have long!"

              The paladin stroked his rough, ruddy hand over his face softly as he stared at his reflection. A fingertip tugged down on his eyelid, which was heavy, then the darker colored bags underneath. His brow was wrinkled, and if not for his beard you would be certain that his mouth and nose would be framed by a canyon of lines and wrinkles.

              Diwaata presses her hands against Cristovao's face and squeezes it like a sponge. "We bathe you in Light! Every day!"

              With a grunt, he grabs hold of the girl's blue hand and removes it from his face. "Hey, hey... relax! It's alright... I'm a paladin, remember? The Light is always inside my body."

              She trails a fingertip along his eyes. "But your skin so loose!"

              Cristovao's face has some bag to it, making him look a little older than he really is. "Agh! Loose is normal!"

              "No, is not!", Diwaata contests.

              "For humans it is..."

"Thirty-four years old today... and already going gray", Cristovao mutters to himself as he judiciously plucks discolored hairs from his beard. He looks to the water pump and uses it, splashing water on his face, droplets beading on his hair. He grabs his razor, and carefully starts to trim and neaten his beard.

              "That is scary...", Diwaata says to her human friend.

              "That's just how things are for us... we're used to it, you don't need to worry", Cristovao says back to her.

              Diwaata was silent for a moment. She looks to Cristovao and grips her hands together tightly, "... Do not die."

              "I've got at least sixty more years ahead of me, don't worry about that. I've got a lot of living left to do...", he says to her with a small smile.

              His grooming finished, Cristovao sighs as he looks towards the window. Already the sun's morning rays were shining through the blinds, the earlier soft and hazy blue lighting vanishing. He pumped some more water into the sink with a shake of his head, washing the hairs down the drain. Then, he slowly stepped out of the washroom, but his eyes drift to a cupcake placed on a table beside the door.

              Looking the treat over, it was a plain white cupcake with a dull red frosting - probably raspberry or strawberry. Peculiarly, there was a streak of it missing, as if someone had stuck their finger in the frosting to taste it. Underneath was a small card, with crudely made Draenei runes on the cover that say "FOR PAPA". Inside the card was a rudimentary ink drawing of a man in a cape holding hands with a girl with devilish horns and a tail holding ice creams, with messy spots speckled across the parchment. On the opposite page was a small paragraph:

"DEAR PAPA, I BAKED YOU THIS CUPCAKE FOR YOOR BIRTHDAY BECOS I KNOW YOU LIKE THEM BUT DONT TELL MAMA BECOS I DID NOT ASK FOR HELP AND SHE WILL TELL ME NOT TO PLAY WITH THE OVEN.

~MELODIA!

P.S. YOU SHOULD GET ICE CREAM BECOS ITS YOUR BIRTHDAY I WILL GO WITH YOU TO HELP YOU PICK A FLAVOR

P.S. (again) I DID NOT LICK YOUR CUPCAKE

              Cristovao looked the card over a few times, half chuckling and half holding back a happy tear. He sat down and tasted his cupcake, which was uneven and rather chewy, but all the same delicious to him.

              "Happy Birthday to me...", he says to himself quietly.