“Hold still.”

“I just- my noses itches, I-”

“I said hold still.”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Good. Now stay like that.”

Wendel’s cheeks were squished in Cecillia’s hand as she delicately applied the eyeliner, taking care to treat every brush and stroke with the precision of a gifted surgeon. A slight smirk found her lips as she traded the liner for shadow, and she released Wendel’s face only with his word that he would hold absolutely still. He kept his eyes closed - another part of the deal - so he could not see what she was doing, but he winced when a brush met a knot in his hair, reaching up with his hand before she hastily slapped it, earning a whine. Minutes passed, each one taking excruciatingly longer than the one before it, but a satisfied huff signaled that her work was done, and she dusted off her hands.

“Alright Wendel,” she smiled, gently handing him a mirror, “I think you’ll be pleased.”

“Oh good,” Wendel nodded with a smile, “So... does that mean I can-”

“Yes you can look now,” an amused huff left Cecillia, and Wendel slowly opened his eyes.

Carefully he raised the mirror to his face, and he paused. His rough black locks were now gently strewn along the sides of his face, delicately resting just above cheeks that held only a bit of blush. Violet smoke rested beneath his hazel eyes, darkened by black ink that flowed around its corners. The darkness Cecillia had promised was ever-evident, but something greater lied beneath it all. Carefully he raised his fingers towards his black locks, delicately caressing them as his heart beat fast in his chest. He brought them down to his lips, feeling the black lipstick against them, and he let out a small gasp. In that moment, something within Wendel felt right. In that moment, something about him felt real.

In that moment, she hatched.

Not a word left the young woman as she stared at her reflection. Tears filled her eyes, but she dared not cry, for fear of upsetting Cecillia’s work. She merely placed her hand over her mouth, taking in small gasps as her friend’s hand rested gently on the back of her shoulder.

“There, there,” Cecillia assured her, “It’s alright. Take it all in. Relax.”

She managed a meek nod, forcing her eyes shut for a moment as her heart pounded in her chest. The feeling within her was new, unlike anything she had experienced. It was a rebirth, an errant spark that kindled something far within. She was iron, and she’d just met a flame.

It was, in a word, euphoric.

“C-Cecillia?” the name whispered through her lips with a small sniffle, “Do you... do you have any... dresses I could borrow?” the question felt so stupid, but she wouldn’t dare resist asking.

“A dress?” she pressed, “Hmm... you do look good in black.”

“Y-yeah,” she managed another meek nod, “Please?”

“Of course, love,” her smile grew as she placed a delicate black rose in the young woman’s hair, “I have just the one in mind.”