Vaela adjusts the strap of her black satin dress, standing before the mirror in her room. Her hair is swept into a wavy updo, gold chains draped through the locks like vines of molten sunlight. Her heels are sharp enough to kill a man. And if all goes wrong tonight, they just might.
Behind her, Lilith lounges on a chaise, a glass of wine in one hand, her other tapping out a frantic rhythm on her knee with freshly manicured nails. Her eyes narrow at Vaela's reflection like she's watching a beloved heroine wander straight into a slasher film.
"I still can't believe you're going through with this," Lilith mutters.
Vaela hums as she applies the last touch of lip stain, a soft shade of bloodrose. "You can believe it. And yes, I know what I'm doing."
"Do you?" Lilith scoffs. "Because from here, it looks like you're getting dressed to be sacrificed on the altar of charming sociopaths."
