Chapter Three Hundred and Seventy-Two - Facial Hare

“Huh,” I said.

“Huh,” Awen agreed.

“Hmm?” Caprica asked.

“Are you all really just going to stand there and stare?” Amaryllis asked. She fluttered a wing towards the shop. “There’s nothing stopping you from going in.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird isn’t it?” Calamity asked.

The shop in question was right next to the Arrow Smiths. It was a smaller shop, with two big windows sandwiching a doorway. The shop’s name was above that, written on a simple, discrete plaque. Substitute Stubble, Prosthetics, & Artificial Replacements.

Through the windows we could make out mannequins. Some had wooden or metallic arms and legs, fitted for both dwarf and elf, but most of the mannequins were just wooden heads on little stands. And all of them had fake beards.

“Well, I wanna check it out,” I said before I boldly stepped up and into the shop. A bell jingled above the doorway, and I was hit with a weird mix of smells, oils and shampoos. It reminded me a little of the barber shops I’d sometimes visited when my dad needed a haircut back on Earth.

The shop was divided into two sections. A small area to one side sold prosthetics of various makes and models, and a few signs promised year-long guarantees, free adjustments, and a free can of oil with every purchase of a magitech arm-clamp or buzzsaw hand.

The rest of the shop was all about the fake beards. There were long ones, short ones, beards split into thirds and partial fake beards as well as beard extensions, goatees, mutton chops, and beards that were shaped in all sorts of fanciful ways.

“Hello sir,” someone said from the front. An older dwarf stepped out from behind a counter. He had an apron that fell to his knees and a pointy-sharp beard with beads around the moustache. Also, one of his legs clacked and was very obviously artificial. “How can I help you?”

“Ah, I was just looking,” I said.

“Oh, no need to be shy,” he said as he adjusted a pair of spectacles. “I see that hairless chin of yours and the envy in your eyes. You, good sir, are in want of a magnificent beard!”

“Uh. I guess?” I said. They were pretty magnificent.

“Fantastic. Now, I’m curious, and if the memory pains you too much, then feel free to tell me to shut my old gullet up, but how did you lose your beard?” He squinted at my face, and I had the impression he was really inspecting my cheeks and chin.

“Ah, well, I never had one to begin with,” I said.

“Hmm,” he said. Then he shook his head. “Shame.”

“Well, I was a human girl, and we don’t usually have beards. Uh. Now I’m a bun girl, and I haven’t seen one of those with a beard either.”

He blinked. “Oh. You’re a woman. My apologies, miss, for misgendering ya. It’s hard to tell, you see.”

“It’s fine,” I said with a little wave. “Um, are any of these beards... girl beards?”

“Hmm? Why, yes, obviously,” he said. “Why, nearly half of them. The ladies have beard-related accidents just as often as the men do, of course.”

“Right, of course," I said, despite not seeing any difference between the beards. Presumably there was some cultural or perceptual thing I wasn't picking up on, or maybe couldn't pick up on. “What’s the most common beard-related accident?” I asked while my friends filed into the shop.

“Oh, getting caught in gears is common enough. Burns happen too. Usually that’ll just clip a bit off the end though. A shame, but nothing too unusual. Something for your friends to rib you about, but it happens to the best of us. Now, these prosthetics are for more serious injuries to the beard. The poor souls who go through something harrowing and awful and who come out of it bereft of their whiskers and facial hair.” He frowned and shook his head. “I do what I can to help, having been there once myself.” Then he stroked his own magnificent beard.

“Wow, that’s really kind of you,” I said. “Is this the only, ah, prosthetic beard shop around?”

“Hmm? Only the finest! There are a few others, but none as spectacular or with such a fine quality of faux-beards as you’ll find here. Now... are these your companions, miss?”

“Ah, yup!” I said. “They’re here to help me shop for a beard... uh, unless you guys want a beard of your own?”

Awen giggled and shook her head. Amaryllis looked unimpressed, and Caprica confused at the very idea. Calamity though, stepped up. “Hey, can you make moustaches?”

“A moustache? Of course, miss.”

“Ah, no, I’m a... nevermind,” Calamity said with a sigh. “Yeah, a nice moustache would do.”

“You can’t grow your own?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “Not really. But I always wanted one. Maybe one that matches my ears?” He wiggled his cat ears and the old dwarf squinted up at them.

“Hmm, might have something that fits. The miss first, though!” He turned his attention back onto me. “Now, what kind of beard are you looking for? One for special occasions? A worker’s beard?”

“Ah, I don’t know much about beard culture, what do you think would be best?” I asked.

“Well, something to bring out your femininity, of course. Maybe something simple and traditional. Just a few braids and maybe a bead or two. Nothing less than a foot though. Now, a proper beard reaches down to the belly button, of course, but on taller folk that sometimes looks a mite strange. Maybe... hmm.”

He mumbled to himself as he limped between the stands and shelves of beards, then he returned with a few samples.

Grinning, I followed him over to a seat at the back with a large mirror before it. The dwarf had me try on a couple of beards real quick, but he whipped them away almost as soon as they were on. Finally, after a dozen, he held one against my face and nodded. “Not a bad option, don’t you think?”

The beard was just long enough to reach my upper chest, with a pointy middle and a few simple braids along the sides. The moustache was properly thick, with something for me to grab and curl on the edges. It was also the same shade of brown as my hair.

“We can get some beads to match your eyes. You’ll have every beau from here to Sissifin complimenting your whiskers.”

“I’ll take it!” I said.

The beard was held in place by a set of discreet straps that ran around and over my head and which were thin enough to be hidden by my hair. In the end, the beard looked perfectly natural and hung on without any painful tugging.

Broccoli’s Beard
New Skill Acquired: Tinkering Proficiency
Rank: D

Oh! A skill! I didn’t know that Mad Millinery could proc on wearing a beard of all things. Beards weren’t hats, were they? Though I supposed they were technically headwear? I needed to see if sunglasses would give me a skill too, though something told me it wouldn’t work that way, exactly. “Hey, I got a Tinkering Proficiency skill from the beard,” I said.

“Oho, you have a gear-based skill? That’s uncommon enough. And yes, obviously beards make you a better tinkerer.”

Now Awen was looking at my beard with an indecipherable expression on.

“Did you want one?” I asked her.

She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, it’s okay,” she said.

Once I was bearded up, I stood aside while the old dwarf helped Calamity find a suitable moustache. He ended up with a big bushy thing that sat like a hairy caterpillar on his upper lip. It looked a bit silly, but also gave Calamity the air of an outdoorsman.

We paid for the dwarf’s services and the facial hair, then headed out to explore the rest of the shops.

“It’s going to be tricky, eating with this thing,” I said as I stroked my beard. Of course, I was starting to think about food. We were shopping, and grabbing something unhealthy and strange to eat was part of the shopping experience.

But, since there wasn’t a place to sit down and eat at just yet, we continued to windowshop for a bit. I tried not to tug at my beard while we walked around, which was surprisingly hard.

We ended up in another clothes store where we perused all of the things they had, but for the most part they were either way too big or way too small for any of us. I did end up buying a few knit socks that looked very comfy.

I had a weakness for fluffy socks.

Then we ran into a little novelty store. They had cameras, and a setup that allowed them to develop photos in an hour. There were all sorts of photos pinned to the walls of dour looking dwarves and serious elves, all in that sort of shades of brown and black.

We filed in, and an excited elf explained photography for us. Or rather, for my friends. I was familiar with the idea already, even if the way he described it made it seem novel and new.

In the end, we all settled into a spot at the back of the shop, squeezing in tightly so that all of us could fit into the frame. Then we ignored the nice elf’s advice and smiled big and bright as the camera went off.

He took a few pictures, just in case, and we paid up before heading off. Given that is would take an hour to develop the pictures, we had some time to eat!

We found a coffee shop a little ways off, but there was a huge line leading up to it, so we continued until we found a shop being run by a tall, wiry man of dark complexion. It took me a moment to realise that he was an Ostri, of all things. They were selling Ostri specialities from the Ostri desert, which Awen was pretty excited for.

“Their food tastes great,” she said. “Just, ah, the names are strange.”

The shop’s name was interesting too. Come Here to Eat Ostri Food. It... well, it certainly told anyone passing by what to expect. We ended up sitting at a round table, with some chairs stolen from nearby.

I had cactus leaves with hurty weed sauce, which was surprisingly spicey, but also flavourful, and the others had a mix of things, from spicey bird cooked over fire to flatbread with meat and burning sauce.

Once we were appropriately stuffed, it took some serious effort and willpower to get up and waddle out of the restaurant. I also discovered that eating with a beard was probably a challenge for people who didn’t have Cleaning magic. The fine hairs caught on every non-solid food and I ended up with half my meal tucked away in my moustache instead of in my tummy.

I sniffed out a bakery on our way back to the photoshop, and as it turned out, there was a teeny tiny bit of room in me to squeeze in some cake along with a hot citrusy tea-like drink.

By the time we returned to the photoshop, all five of us were groaning with effort and our bellies were bulging from all the food we’d stuffed ourselves with, but it was worth it!

We each got a copy of our new team photo, and I carefully slid mine away. It would, I suspected, make for a nice memory in the distant future. A way to look back and show our respective kids how much fun we’d had and who our friends were.

I was looking forward to that future, but moreso, I was looking forward to the now where we were still having all that fun.

“Oh, look, they sell flowers over there,” Caprica said. “Do you think I could get something for Gabrielle?”

“Let’s go see!”

***