Unnamed

The mirror showed her face, as any mirror should. It showed her her true face; not the veil, or the mask, or the glamour she wore when out in public, but the twisted purple mark of her past. It stretched from her right temple, across her eye and nose and down to the left side of her jaw. It was not often she saw this, and it did not feel like her. Who was this stranger looking back at her through a mercury window? When had they taken her place in life?

Turning away from the glass, she pulled open a wide drawer. It slid smoothly out on well oiled runners, barely making a sound. Inside there were masks of varying kinds layed out neatly in rows, from the largest, most decadent ones on the left to the small halfmasks on the right.

She ran a finger over each, pausing over a feathered carnival mask, a plain doll-like mask and a plague doctor hood. Who would she be today? Someone fierce? Fun? Spooky?

Finally, she settled on a plain white halfmask over a branching, black feather woodmask. It hid all but her mouth and eyes, leaving only a tiny portion of her mark visible.

Turning back to the mirror, she gave it an experimental snarl. The dark feathers combined with the stark contrast of the halfmask and her pale eyes gave her a demonic flair.

She smiled at her reflection. Today, she'd be a demon.