Bjorn Ironside Hair Novels & Stories

Even with the baggy hoody, I can see the bulge of his chest and arms. His ivory skin compliments his blond hair, which is long and wavy. But not too long. Cut just right. And the roots are brown. Is that fake? No, it's real. I had to dye my black and straight hair once, and I would know. His sharp nose rests between two grey eyes. The color of concrete.

Sir Ignis, after having recovered from being planted on the floor, wiped the dust off his hands and commented, "Nice spell… and hair. It suits you." Perplexed by his other compliment, I picked up a few strands of my hair and it finally made sense; the black hair that grandma used to brush before I went to bed was now completely dyed in sapphire blue.

He billowed around in a white gown and stopped next to Teddy, putting a hand on his shoulder. Teddy craned his neck around to look up at him as he stood, eyes closed, a mountain of hair and gown. Gorham’s hairstyle could best be described as ‘interesting’. On top, was a bundle of greying, bouncy curls, at the back of which hung long, straight, teased, and dry strands which rounded out like a platypus tail. It clearly needed an enormous amount of maintenance. It reminded Teddy of the over-the-top hairstyles of some 1980s popstars.

Irises the color of steel bore into her, distant and cold. Those steely eyes framed a harsh, handsome face. The brown hair of his close-trimmed beard framed his strong jaw, and she realized the chill of his gaze made him more rugged than his features should have allowed. With high cheekbones and a perfectly straight blade of a nose, he should have been a charming, handsome cowboy. Yet years of a hard life had roughened him around the edges with a rugged, raw masculinity.

Her expression was a carefully composed mask, waiting for it. "W…what happened to your hair?" I finally managed, the words clumsy. My eyes traced the impossible transformation. Her rich, dark hair was now starkly parted. One side remained its familiar deep brown, but the other… the other was a cascade of pure, shimmering silver, as if moonlight had been woven directly into the strands. The division was severe, beautiful, and utterly unnatural.