obsidian ink. [blane rekner]

synopsis: Blane recalls the one time they contemplated dyeing their hair.

Blane tried dyeing their hair once. They were thirteen, stood in front of a sink with gloves on and a box of hair dye in hand.

They didn’t know what they were doing.

They stared at themself, wondering how the shock of pure white would turn into obsidian ink. How it would look against the complexion of their skin. How they would startle the first couple of times they looked in the mirror until eventually, they got used to it.

Blane hates to admit it, but part of the reason why they considered it was because of other people.

They didn't care that they were bullied for their hair—the insults never bothered them. Other kids could pelt rocks at them and sneer and yell profanities and Blane would do nothing but shoot them a disinterested look.

What bothered Blane was how they ruined their quiet. Blane sat in the corner for a reason. They stayed silent during conversations and deigned to join groups at lunch because they enjoyed the peace of being alone. But their hair was too bold to let them hide. It brought them bullies and children pestering them over whether the colour was natural or not and teachers who would occasionally shoo them away only to glance suspiciously at Blane when they thought they weren't looking.

Blane found the dye in a cabinet somewhere. The expiry date was long past but the box was unopened, which they took as a sign that it was fine to use. Even then, they might have considered it.

But when it came to actually doing it, they found it harder than they thought. It was a matter of smearing the mixed dye into their hair. The smallest of movements, simply raising their arms—but it felt like a thousand bricks were weighing on their shoulders.

At the time, they didn't know what had gotten into them. If they dyed their hair, people would leave them alone. They would gain back their quiet and be able to sit in the corner of the courtyard unnoticed again.

When they threw the dye in the trash, they didn't understand why. It took them years to find the answer and it came in the form of Caine Atheron.

It was when Blane was a new transfer to the New York institute. Still a bumbling deer finding their way around the department, attempting to navigate the newness of being a Hunter. Caine had caught them exiting the elevator, trying their best to look like they knew what they were doing.

"Hunter Rekner."

"Caine."

Caine walked closer, his hair shining beneath the lights. Too bright for it to be natural.

From the moment they met, Blane decided that they hated Caine. Fucking Caine Atheron. Something about how fake the man was bothered them. His boisterous personality and loud voice were merely cover-ups for a lurking feeling of superiority and demeaning manner.

Caine may have been quick to hide his irritation when he saw Blane, but they caught it anyway. In Caine's eyes, the two would never be equal. Boss or not, Caine would always be the better person.

"Are you lost?"

"No, I was just taking a wander around the building," Blane answers. "Thought it would help clear my head over my recent case."

Caine hummed. "Ah. It's always good to get a change of scenery. If you need help, Hunter Alves is there too. You are a team, after all. The case isn't just yours to bear."

"Of course." Blane had to bite their tongue so they wouldn't remark something inappropriate.

"Alright, well, I'll leave you to it. If you need me, I'll be in my office," Caine called, already walking off. He had only stepped a couple of meters before pausing, turning around once more. "Out of curiosity, are you ever going to do something about your hair?"

Blane stiffened. "My hair."

"The white is a little obvious," Caine explained. "It stands out on a hunt and also is a dead giveaway that you're not fully human. It may be a disadvantage at some points."

Though he said it with a tight smile, Blane could hear the underlying meaning of his words.

They refused to give Caine the satisfaction of looking at their elevator reflection. They already knew what they would see. Bright white hair that had been a hindrance their entire life. Bright white hair that was theirs and something they weren't going to change simply because other people were bothered by it.

So, dampening their frustration, Blane merely shrugged and responded, "I'll think about it."

Caine knew that Blane would never consider it beyond that moment right there, but Blane didn't care. Didn't bother to hide it, even.

It wasn't long before Caine stopped putting up his façade in front of Blane. They found that they liked that version of him better, even if his favouritism to everyone other than them stung sometimes. But like everything else, they learned to deal with it. They had asked for it, after all.