French Braid Romane & Geschichten

My hair was braided into a simple French braid as I wanted to be casual for tonight. “I can’t believe you and Liam are finally going on a date.” Macie says, casually picking up the dirty clothes thrown onto a chair in the corner and dropping them in the hamper. My lips curl into a grin as I turn to face my friend, seeing how happy she is for me.

Her white-blonde hair was side-parted and plaited into a French braid at the back, adorned with tiny flowers. Brynn was adorned in a strapless maroon dress with a mid-thigh slit, showcasing her confident style. Her 6-inch maroon platform buckle-zipper stiletto heels added an extra touch of glamour. The dress had been uniquely altered by her brother, making it an original creation. Her strawberry blonde hair, elegantly curled, allowed the waves to flow seamlessly. Both girls sported a nude shade of makeup that complemented their looks perfectly. It's showtime.

It's two months into school, so at this point I'm used to the five-thirty wake-up call. I turned off the rest of my alarms and continued with my usual morning routine. I made sure my fake, latex nose piece that I added on only for school was perfectly on my face before I started French braiding my blond, slightly shower-wet hair to the back. Once the two braids were done, I twisted them together and pinned them up into a bun, a special trick my stylist taught me a few years ago. I put on a new wig cap, slightly wincing at the tightness of it since it's never been worn. After a minute of getting used to the feeling, I added on a long brown messy wig.

Clаrеtе hаd fіxеd hеr hаіr in a simple brаіd knowing thаt I would аррrоvе. Intuitive аѕ wеll аѕ іntеllіgеnt, ѕhе guessed, оr реrhарѕ rеаd mу mіnd. Puppy brought mе thе ѕрооl of Kеllу Grееn ribbon. Grace bоught іt аt mу request аlоng with Puppy's сlоthіng. "Adam wоuld you tіе thіѕ ribbon оn my brаіd? I juѕt can't ѕееm tо get the bоw rіght."

“Of course, my lady.” I wanted to remind her to quit calling me that but I knew it would just be a waste of effort. She would never stop. I had tried not to look at what she was doing with my hair, and by the time she nudged me that she was done, my mouth let out a small gasp. She had braided my hair in a French braid, but it wasn’t just the typical one. This one had delicate curls falling over my heart shaped face, accentuating my strong features. I looked different. I looked beautiful.

Hence, leaving me no option but to cover it. “Whatever” Rora mutters before walking back to her room. Getting up, I stride to Maria's room. Before I can knock, the door opens revealing her ‘all ready to go’ frame. Her brown locks are tied into a French braid. “Is that what took you so long?” I ask, looking at her nicely made braid. “Can't let the training ruin my hair” She shrugs, strolling past me with a sassy walk. I stare at my simple braid, feeling envious of how both my sisters know better hairstyles than I do.

Alexander returned to his chambers while the maids helped me dress. They styled my hair into a soft French braid, leaving loose curls to frame my face. I wore a cascading blue gown, its shimmering bodice hugging my petite frame, the ruffled skirt flowing around my legs. A touch of mascara and nude lipstick finished the look—elegant, effortless, yet subtly alluring.

With that, I started to make my way back to the cabin. As I walked, I stopped to watch an older woman braiding a young woman's hair. It was a beautiful style with braids along either side of her temple and then one large braid along the top. Once the braids reached the crown it was tied off and fell in long, loose curls down her back. The elder woman caught me staring. "Would you like your hair braided?" she asked. "That is kind of you," I said holding up my hands, "but I wouldn't want to be an inconvenience."

My question hangs in the air, unanswered, as Cathy leads me to the vanity. Here, she transforms me further. My hair is styled into an elaborate, loose braid that drapes over my shoulder like a silken rope. Cathy intersperses the braid with tiny, crystalline pins that glint like the first rays of dawn breaking over a snowy horizon. Each crystal feels imbued with intent as if they are tiny fragments of a larger, unsolved riddle.

Jewels were attached and I had keep my hands steady so they didn't end up falling off. The stylist arrived and this woman went straight to work. No greetings, there wasn't a single 'hi' I heard from her. She just placed a book on my thighs and told me to pick whichever one I wanted. I went through it and saw the length of my hair wasn't enough to do most of them and I didn't want any type of extensions so I just told her to do whatever was okay for my type of hair. She then said something in French in didn't understand and I just nodded in response.