(I got a little carried away, so this is going to be a series of 14 vignettes here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9150742/chapters/20789617. As Pride was the only one requested, I'm pasting that here on its own!)
Pride: Credence stared for a moment in the shop window, his gaze drawn to his own reflection. He felt his face colour a little as he saw himself. His face was slender, feminine, but his hair hung around his ears in soft curls, and sometimes he thought he could be beautiful. He hoped that one day, he would make a young woman a suitable husband. He was too tall, that he knew, and he was not the cleverest of men - mother disliked him to spend too much time learning, so his reading was not the best. But he was handsome enough, and he would be caring. When he found a young lady who would have him as a husband, he would do all he could to make her happy. He would pray for her, and cherish her, and never raise his hand to her.
He tore himself away reluctantly, gaze lingering a moment too long, and went back to handing out his leaflets, a faint smile on his lips. He knew it was a daydream, but he was sure that somewhere there would be the right person for him, and he would be a good husband for them, would kiss her every morning and when they had children, he would care for them. He wondered if they would have the same soft hair that he had, if he would be able to see himself in their eyes. He would be a good father, as good as he could be.
When the leaflets had all been taken, he made his way home, and walked into the church. He couldn't resist the urge to touch his hair again, amazed by how soft it was. It hid the ugliness of his underfed body, how unnaturally tall he was. He wondered if perhaps he could grow it a little longer, long enough to cover his shoulders and hide the scars along his neck. Those ones mother had apologised for inflicting, the only ones on his body with that privilege as even his suit would not hide it. Anyway, men were growing their hair a little longer now. He could probably get away with it. He crouched in front of the metal pot that they used for soup, tugging on one of the curls to see just how long his hair was if he pulled it out straight. Nearly long enough.
"And what are you doing boy?" His mother's voice rang out behind him, and he jumped in shock, hands dropping to his sides as he cringed a little. "Noth...nothing mother." "Lying doubles the sin child." She stepped closer and he reached for his belt. She snatched it from him, bringing it down hard on his hands first of all, while he bowed his head and made himself speak. "Thank you mother. I am sorry." He thanked her each time, until his hands are bloody and she returned his belt to him. Carefully he replaced it. "What were you doing?" "Looking..." He swallowed, seeing the look in her eyes, the way her gaze narrowed. “Committing the sin of pride mother. Being vain." "You should never be vain my boy. You are an ugly wretched creature, and pride is a sin, always. You understand that?" "Yes mother." Credence nodded, and she gestured for him to sit down. He sat, his head bowed, and she walked away. He sat in silence, breathing slowly, trying not to be sick. Whatever was coming, it would be bad, he was sure of it.
When she returned, she was holding a pair of scissors. He didn't dare move or fight as she started to hack his hair, the curls falling to the floor at his feet. He sat still, as she hacked his hair away, leaving his hair uneven, messy. He looked at the fallen curls, and started to cry. "Clean up that mess." She ordered. "And from now on, I'm keeping your hair tidy and respectable. I should have stepped in earlier. Don't cry boy. Now, what do you say?"
“Thank you mother.” He stuttered out, fighting back fresh tears as he crouched to clean the floor with wounded hands. She stormed away.
Re: Credence - Ezra's gorgeous hair
Pride:
Credence stared for a moment in the shop window, his gaze drawn to his own reflection. He felt his face colour a little as he saw himself. His face was slender, feminine, but his hair hung around his ears in soft curls, and sometimes he thought he could be beautiful. He hoped that one day, he would make a young woman a suitable husband. He was too tall, that he knew, and he was not the cleverest of men - mother disliked him to spend too much time learning, so his reading was not the best. But he was handsome enough, and he would be caring. When he found a young lady who would have him as a husband, he would do all he could to make her happy. He would pray for her, and cherish her, and never raise his hand to her.
He tore himself away reluctantly, gaze lingering a moment too long, and went back to handing out his leaflets, a faint smile on his lips. He knew it was a daydream, but he was sure that somewhere there would be the right person for him, and he would be a good husband for them, would kiss her every morning and when they had children, he would care for them. He wondered if they would have the same soft hair that he had, if he would be able to see himself in their eyes. He would be a good father, as good as he could be.
When the leaflets had all been taken, he made his way home, and walked into the church. He couldn't resist the urge to touch his hair again, amazed by how soft it was. It hid the ugliness of his underfed body, how unnaturally tall he was. He wondered if perhaps he could grow it a little longer, long enough to cover his shoulders and hide the scars along his neck. Those ones mother had apologised for inflicting, the only ones on his body with that privilege as even his suit would not hide it. Anyway, men were growing their hair a little longer now. He could probably get away with it. He crouched in front of the metal pot that they used for soup, tugging on one of the curls to see just how long his hair was if he pulled it out straight. Nearly long enough.
"And what are you doing boy?" His mother's voice rang out behind him, and he jumped in shock, hands dropping to his sides as he cringed a little.
"Noth...nothing mother."
"Lying doubles the sin child." She stepped closer and he reached for his belt. She snatched it from him, bringing it down hard on his hands first of all, while he bowed his head and made himself speak.
"Thank you mother. I am sorry." He thanked her each time, until his hands are bloody and she returned his belt to him. Carefully he replaced it.
"What were you doing?"
"Looking..." He swallowed, seeing the look in her eyes, the way her gaze narrowed. “Committing the sin of pride mother. Being vain."
"You should never be vain my boy. You are an ugly wretched creature, and pride is a sin, always. You understand that?"
"Yes mother." Credence nodded, and she gestured for him to sit down. He sat, his head bowed, and she walked away. He sat in silence, breathing slowly, trying not to be sick. Whatever was coming, it would be bad, he was sure of it.
When she returned, she was holding a pair of scissors. He didn't dare move or fight as she started to hack his hair, the curls falling to the floor at his feet. He sat still, as she hacked his hair away, leaving his hair uneven, messy. He looked at the fallen curls, and started to cry.
"Clean up that mess." She ordered. "And from now on, I'm keeping your hair tidy and respectable. I should have stepped in earlier. Don't cry boy. Now, what do you say?"
“Thank you mother.” He stuttered out, fighting back fresh tears as he crouched to clean the floor with wounded hands. She stormed away.