Braiding
Chapter 2: Braiding
Admiral Biscuit
Positioning ourselves was a bit of an ordeal; I finally wound up stretched out on the floor with Rose on her rump between my legs, her tail draped across a thigh. I had to lean forward just a bit to work on her mane, but it wasn't too bad.
I started off gently with the comb. I should have expected that her mane would be well-groomed, but my experiences in working with animals—limited though they were—had predisposed me to expecting scratches and bites when I enthusiastically worked out a tangle.
Rose gave an occasional wince, and flicked me with her tail, but she otherwise remained still and silent throughout the process.
As I combed, I thought about how I was going to braid her mane. It wasn't as straight a line as a real horse's, but it wasn't like a human's, either.
When I could put it off no longer, I separated her hair into three long strands, figuring I'd work in the neck-hair as I went. At least I'd seen a few ponies with braided manes—there was a little silver filly I saw around who habitually wore pigtails.
I worked in silence, my fingers performing the familiar weave. I left it loose—I didn't want to make her uncomfortable.
“Is this something humans do for each other?” Rose asked when I was halfway done.
“Sometimes,” I told her. “We have professional hairdressers, but most girls know how to do simple braids, at least. Some boys do, too.”
“It feels strange, but nice.” She wiggled her rump against the floorboards. “Your fingers are like little combs.”
“They're handy for all sorts of things.” I finished with her mane, reached beside me for the tie, and looped it around the end of her hair, knotting it with practiced ease. It was a lot simpler when I could see what I was doing. My own hair was almost long enough to pull the braid in front of my face when I was done, but not quite there yet. Maybe in a couple more months. . . . “There's a mirror up in my bedroom. It’s probably on the vanity.”
Rose got up on her hooves and headed upstairs, while I leaned back and collected my thoughts. As I'd hoped, once I'd gotten involved with her hair, all other concerns had fallen to the back of my mind; now that she was gone, my unease resurfaced. I was still naked, and my brain said that I was surely sending all sorts of unintentional social signals. Rose was a nice mare, but I wasn't into girls, or mares. Not that way—I hoped I wasn’t making her think I was.
If I told Tenderheart about this, would she think I was making progress, or would she see it as a setback? Was it the actions which would send up red flags, or the way in which I described them? I'd know in a couple of days.
Baby steps, Sam. I ran my hands over my bare legs, resisting the urge to curl up in the fetal position and tune out the world.
I could almost hear the lightness in her step as Rose trotted back down the stairs. I'd half expected she'd say something about how good her mane looked, but when I glanced up at her, I could see why she hadn't. She had the small hand mirror from my vanity held in her mouth.
She set it gently on the blanket, leaned up against me and nuzzled my cheek, before throwing caution to the wind and giving me a kiss. “It looks really pretty, Sam,” she said, oblivious to my blush. “I feel like I'm going to a garden party or a gala.”
“Thanks.” I brushed a small strand of her hair that I'd missed behind her ear. “I could do your tail, too, if you want.”
“Um. . . .” She turned back and looked at her tail, and I saw her ears droop a little bit. I didn't need her to tell me that I'd just stepped on a cultural land mine, but I had no idea what it was. I'd seen plenty of horses before with braided tails—heck, it was easier than dealing with the mane.
Although, now that I thought about it, I hadn't seen any ponies with braided tails.
“I—“
“I've never had my tail braided before,” Rose said, a little bit too loud. “It's, er, you know?” Her voice trailed off as she continued regarding it warily. “Is it a human thing? But you don't have a tail . . . do human stallions have tails?”
“No, humans don't have tails. We haven't for a long, long time.” I put my hand on her back, and she spun around to face me again. I could see a faint blush through her coat. “If you're not comfortable with the idea, I don't have to. I just thought you'd like them to match. Don't ponies sometimes braid their tails when they're wearing fancy clothes?”
“Sometimes,” she said, now on more comfortable ground. “Most nice dresses cover it almost completely, though. It's not real common. Rarity says some of the unicorns in Canterlot do it when they wear short skirts.” She looked at my free hand with a slight bit of distrust. “But. . . .”
“I don't have to. I get that you're uncomfortable with the idea, even if I don't know why.”
“No.” Rose stuck her muzzle against my chest and took a deep breath. “It's not fair.” She moved back away from me, carefully setting her hooves to avoid stepping on my legs. I watched in bemusement as she went a few lengths away from me and started pacing around. Her ears still hadn't come back up to full height, as she worked through whatever hangup she had that I'd caused. I didn't want to press her on the issue, but if I couldn’t come up with an answer, it was something I was going to ask Tenderheart next time I met with her. Hopefully she wouldn’t get all squirrely.
“How do you want to do it?” she asked quietly. “Do you need me to sit on a chair or something, so you can reach?” Her ears lowered even more.
“As long as you're not sitting on it, I can braid it on the floor, with you lying down or standing, it doesn't matter. But look, I don't have to, okay? I can put away the brush and we can think about what we want to have for lunch, if you want to stay.” I leaned down and massaged my calf—it was starting to cramp up again.
“What are you doing?” Rose looked at me with interest. I suppose the concept of kneading one's muscles would be a bit foreign to them.
“Cramp,” I said. “It happens—it's no big deal.”
“I get those sometimes,” Rose said quietly. “A soak in a hot tub helps after a long day. I heard you were out sweeping chimneys yesterday.”
“I'm sure the gossip got around.” I stretched out my leg, and pulled the blanket back up, to where it was at least providing the barest illusion of modesty. “Seems anything I do, everyone else knows about it as soon as I do.”
Rose moved back a little bit closer to me. “I haven't said anything about . . . when you helped in the greenhouse, and that night.”
I let out a sigh. “Shoot, Rose, that's not—I'm not worried about that. It's not really an issue. It happened, and that's all.”
“It didn't seem right.” She moved back close to me, and laid down between my legs, her backside towards me. “Sometimes a mare just . . . does something that other ponies might not really understand.”
She twitched her tail as she spoke, and I reached my hand down and held it by the base. Rose jerked at the contact, before laying her head on my right leg.
I moved the brush gently through her tail, paying close attention to tangles. Maybe pony tails were more sensitive; maybe I'd pulled too hard while I was doing her mane, and she had been too polite to say anything. It was impossible to be sure.
I kept a close eye on her, trying to gauge her body language. She was still tense, but she wasn't showing any outward signs of annoyance or fright. I wondered if ponies had something that instinctively relaxed them. You could scruff cats, and a lot of domestic rabbits turned strangely compliant when they were on their backs, but I couldn't think of a single thing that might be relaxing to a pony.
And here you go, treating her like a dumb animal, I chided myself. You can talk to her.
“So,” I said, moving my brush towards the base of her tail. “You said you came over to check on my flowers? How are they?”
“Oh!” Rose turned her head to look at me. Oddly, she had a slight blush on her cheeks. “They're . . . a little too wet. Have you been watering them?”
“A couple of times,” I told her, smoothing the brushed part of her tail over my leg.
“You should stick your muzzle in the soil, and feel how wet it is, before you water them. Some ponies who aren't careful make the mistake of watering their flowers too much, and drown them. I think—“ She twitched her tail as I hit a small knot— “they know they have to eat every day, and think the flower does, too, but a plant's not the same as a pony.”
“Am I being too rough?” I lifted the brush out of her tail and set it aside. “Really, I don't have to.”
“It's okay.” She looked away from me and rested her chin back on my leg.
“Rose!” I'd never gotten the chance to practice a proper 'mom' voice, but it’s probably instinctual. Her ears flattened—I guess their 'mom' tone was similar to a human's.
“Your feet look really soft,” she said. “I never noticed that before—doesn't it hurt to walk around?” She reached out a hoof and traced it over the top of my foot. I knew the diversion tactic; I'd babysat before.
“Why does tail-braiding bother you, Rose? You're going to tell me before I go any further.” I punctuated my words by setting the hairbrush down and crossing my arms.
She was trapped. She knew it and I knew it. Sure, she could get up and leave—that was always an option—but she was too polite to do so. She knew she'd pushed my limits earlier in the day, and she was obligated now. I could see it in the way her head drooped on my leg. Without saying a word, I picked the brush back up and began working on her tail again. I was nearly at the root.
“It's because . . . because it's a thing that only close friends or lovers usually do.” She slumped across my leg. “Or professional ponies, like at the spa or the mane stylist.” Her tail twitched under my brush, slapping against my thigh. She sighed—she knew as well as I did that that wasn't the whole answer. “Because . . . you've got to get up under my tail.”
I almost laughed at that. If I hadn't been focused just then on the brush hitting another tangle, I probably would have, and that would have been the wrong thing, and we would have had to spend days or weeks building things back up to where they had been. I was no expert at anthropology, or ponyology, I guess—but I was wise enough that a moment's reflection led me to not question her statement.
“I don't,” I assured her. “I can do it just fine from here.”
I continued brushing in silence. I wasn't sure how that was a big deal to her—after all, it wasn't like she ever covered those parts; anyone who was curious could just walk around behind her for a while and get an eyeful.
As weird as it seemed, that actually got me to questioning my behavior, and how she'd see it—or any other pony, for that matter. Bizarre, maybe. But I wasn’t their species, and I still didn't think I was quite ready to plunge headfirst into their nudist lifestyle.
Her tail was satisfyingly brushed, so I sorted it into three strands and began braiding, my mind still mulling over her words. It was peaceful and almost hypnotic to move the plaits of hair through my hands, lacing them together in a familiar pattern. I was nearly at the end before I noticed Rose was looking at my hand intently, watching my fingers work with undisguised fascination..
I paid her no mind, continuing my work in silence. Once I reached the end, I looped a tie over her tail, and before I could think about the potential consequences of my actions, rubbed my hand along her back, from mane to tail. “All done.”
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No romance tag? You really are teasing us here.
Kind of a weird place to end a chapter. Still liked it, though.
5211387
The final chapter should be out before midnight tonight.
5211412
5211412 it is two AM for me... How long would I have to stay up for the final chapter?
5211465
If all goes well, no more than three hours.
5211477
Wait... I had to get up early tomorrow...
Fun fun. Reminds me of a poster I once saw of a bunch of butts. Animal butts! Gosh we just know someone is going to think oddly of me for that. Besides that, the last cell on the poster was a cigarette butt, with the caption " butts are gross".
How that relates? Meh, we'll let you all figure that out.
Keep going! ;)
"Hand"y. Right. Would they even have that word?
Oh. huh. Well. That explains the lack of romance tag.
...wait. Is "sam" a man or a woman?
It's kind of an important point, and you seem to have chosen a gender-neutral name that could just as easily be from "Samuel" as from "Samantha"
[Right, so I looked through the comments of the first fic, and saw someone remark that you said somewhere that Sam's a woman. Hm. Mkay.]
Waaait wait wait wait. Does that mean Roseluck's barn doors do swing that way?
A finger will do
Saw that coming
5778252
They've used 'hand' in canon before. And I think 'handy' as well. Either way, it's Sam saying it, so she's good.
She's a girl.
Wasn't that clever of me?
There are a few subtle hints in the first, but they're easy to miss.
5779039
Yeah, no, it's just needlessly confusing, to be honest
5779798
Well, that's fair, I guess.
I'd never intended for there to be more than one story. In the first, I decided it would be an interesting experiment to write a story in which the gender of the narrator wasn't made blatantly obvious--not until the line where Rose says "You look like a tailless mare." Then I fell in love with Sam, and her interactions with Rose, and things just progressed from there.
Not in the sense you're thinking of.
Still watering those flowers, I see. Good for you!
Wait, hang on...
doesn't AJ pull RD's tail all the time?
Gender swapped Sam. Re-read the first fic very carefully.
8148206
Ignore this person. They're not good at details.
7528997
Sure, but that’s different. They’re reasonably close friends.
9513958
Although it was fun re-reading the comments on this fic and the last.
And you’re right, he (I assume) wasn’t very good at details.
9515360
Last fic was very ambiguous with the topic of gender. I wasn't even aware Sam was female till this fic. The perfume comment makes sense now though.
9572267
In the first fic, it wasn’t deliberately made obvious, although with a careful reading it was unambiguous. I had a few people get salty about that.
Gosh, Rose is just so sensitive and curious... I love how you write her
9604139
Thank you!
This chapter puts me in a hard place. I want to hug Rose because I feel bad for her. That said, she trotted right into this little mess.
10924253
I think it’s okay to still hug her, even if she did trot right into the mess.
....!!!!!
WE NEVER HAD TAILS
Because its personal space.
The uhh... backside of ponies is private.
11374282
Go far enough back and our ancestors did.
That's true, although it's kind of confusing to Sam since they don't cover it with clothes, and she's seen other ponies in town with braided tails, and she isn't planning to goose Rose, just work on her tail.