Viking Braids Hairstyles Novels & Stories

It had to be a wolf thing but damned if it made any sense. Noelle had set my plastic bag on the vanity, so I had a comb to get the snarls out. A quick search through the drawers yielded me a hair blower and I took advantage of it. When I was done, my white and silver hair flowed over my shoulders, stopping a few inches above my waist. I'd worn my hair like this for several years, but it generally got in the way a lot if I left it down. So I started a French braid over my left temple and worked the braid diagonally around the back of my head until it ended at the base of my skull near my right ear. I continued braiding the tail until it hung down over my breast. Another drawer had some basic

Violet My hand shakes as I put a portion of my hair in a braid and pull it halfway back into the locks trailing down my shoulders. Half-up/half-down is one of my favorite ways to style my hair. Brent hated when I would play with my hairstyle like this – anything that was playful, fun, or age appropriate, he would sneer his nose up at. He preferred for me to wear it pulled back in a bun style that was so severe, it made me look like I was in my forties. Given the way I never smiled, never met anyone's gaze – I probably did look like I was in my forties. Some miser who hated her life, and for a while I did. But I've come to realize over the past few weeks that's so not me.

The young girl of about 5 years sat still on the wooden chair as the woman's finger walked around her thick afro hair. Cutting some hair apart, she braided them downwards and let the dark braids fall on the girl's neck. She was making a popular hairstyle"All Back". She cut out another part of the young girl's hair and swiftly but carefully braided the hair downwards. Her fingers were strong yet soft on the young girl's scalp which made her very comfortable with having her mother make her hair.

Her face slightly becomes crestfallen, but she quickly shakes it away and plasters a smile back on her lips. “Hey…” I reach up and touch her hand which is resting on my shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll be your wingman.” I smirk at her. She laughs and lightly slaps my bare shoulder. “You just want an excuse to stay away from your date, Hazel.” She pulls my long, dirty blond hair into a messy bun, then begins touching up the sides and back of my head with the clippers. She braids the top of my hair and pulls the rest into a ponytail, giving me the Viking look I like so much. “All done.”

Viewing it as a battle might not be such a bad idea. My hair was braided with six different braids, all combing into one. There also was a hairpin that was more just a miniaturized dagger that was delivered along with some sliver ear cuffs that matched the silver in my dress. I felt like a viking. I felt like a queen. Not to mention my makeup was done with a severe eye but everything was fairly natural. Taking a breath, I finally opened up the door to my room. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so many pieces to my suit before but according to Irina it was necessar…y….”

She looked utterly angelic, as if she didn’t belong in this gritty, ruthless world. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, gleaming under the warm lights like strands of silk. It looked rich, healthy, and painfully touchable. She always wore it down around him. I never understood why—maybe because he liked it that way. But my favorite was when she wore it in those tight Dutch braids, braided parallel across her head, framing her heart-shaped face with a strength and grace only she could pull off.

I stand in front of the mirror and green eyes stare back at me. I put products in my hair before I blow dry it, I am still not sure if I should leave my hair down or put it up. I decide to do both, half up and half down. I have long wavy red hair. I put my hair in two sections, up and down. I pack half of my hair up, I am going to style it later. I straighten the down part of my hair. Then I decide to style the up section into a braided crown.

Talk about killing 2 birds with 1 stone. I braided my hair into a perfect French braid and tucked the braid into a neat bun at the nape of my skull. I secured the hell out of it with bobby pins and doused it in hairspray. Not a single strain of my hair was loose. I normally didn’t use a lot of hair products because I hated washing my hair every day. But today can be an exception. I have to look perfect. I have to set a good example for my work center. Sometimes, I hated being a 1st class. I hated responsibilities. Today is one of those days. No sleep meant being a bitch.

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."

Kylie asks, pointing to my hair. “Yeah, I was wondering if you could braid it really quickly” I say, hopeful. “Yeah, of course. I’ll do a quick easy french braid. Sit on the floor” She says. The braid turned out amazing, even with the short, bumpy drive. The only down side is that some bruises were visible since I didn’t cover anything on my neck, hoping my hair would cover it.