{Complete} What happens when your parents make a deal with the Devil that you have no say in? What happens when the Devil decides to take you as payment?
Willow is not your average human. Ripped from the mortal plane and transported to Hell as a bab...
After two hours of plucking, shaping, curling, and painting, Elizabeth sets down her powder brush then gives me a critical once-over. With narrowed green eyes and pursed red lips, she scrutinizes me like Anne would a slab of steak. The comparison is a good one considering how much I feel like a prized cow about to be sold for the slaughter.
Eventually, she speaks. "I've outdone myself yet again. I mean it's not like you were ugly before, but wow, I'm a straight up wizard with this shit."
"And you're humble, too," I add with sarcasm dripping from every word.
"Of course," she says seriously. "It's one of my many good qualities."
Choosing to ignore her lest she continues to compliment herself, I rise from my chair and turn towards the mirror. Stunned, I can only gape at my reflection. Meeting her eyes in the mirror, I say, "I take back any negative comments I said about you in my head," then continue to stare at all of the subtle and drastic differences to my appearance.
My brown hair is now curled to the space just above my collarbones, with loose ringlets framing my transformed face. With whatever sorcery she used, my dark blue eyes are now larger than ever and almost sparkle in the low light of my room. My pronounced cheekbones make me look older and are complemented by the pink-toned blush on the apples of my cheeks. Even my lips look bigger and softer with a gloss that makes them shine. All in all, I actually look like I belong with the abnormally gorgeous people who exist here.
"Okay, Will. If you stare at yourself in that mirror any harder, you might actually burn a hole in the glass. I don't need seventy years of bad luck and you'll probably croak before you can finish your years of misfortune."
Coming out of my dazed stupor, I reply without even thinking. "It's only seven years of bad luck if you break a mirror, not seventy. And I'm determined to live forever. Somehow."
"Oh, really? Just seven? No wonder angry mortal men are always punching mirrors and, like, walls. Actually, no. It's still weird that they do that. Why do they do that?" she asks without even mentioning my comment about being immortal. She has a hard time focusing on one topic though, so I don't really hold it against her.
"I'm not an expert in human men, Eli. All of the guys I know are literal demons and they like to kill things when they get mad. So, maybe it's just a guy thing?"
"Ugh, men."
Nodding in agreement, I declare, "You can say that again, sister."
We bump knuckles in womanly solidarity before I walk towards my closet to grab the dress that Lilith picked out for me to wear tonight. When I come back into my bedroom, Eli plucks the garment from my hands and inspects the green satin fabric. Apparently it gets the Elizabeth stamp of approval because she thrusts it back in my direction with a noticeable lack of constructive comments. Being careful not to wrinkle the finicky material, I step into the gown and then adjust the shoulder straps.
Without my prompting, Eli moves to zip up the back of the dress. "You look lovely, Will. I couldn't be prouder to be your friend and dance with you tonight. Well, I probably could be more proud but, hello," she points to herself, "physical embodiment of pride. I can't help it."
Smiling at what I know is genuine praise, I take one last look at myself in the mirror. The dress itself has a sweetheart neckline with short puffed sleeves and ruching all along the bust. It falls slightly below my knees and is perfect for summer in Hell. It honestly reminds me of something the Greek goddess Persephone might wear while in the Underworld with her beloved Hades. Unlike her, however, I'm a mere mortal and don't have some all-powerful being vying for my love and affection. Life is seriously unfair like that.
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Satisfied with my finished look, Elizabeth nods to herself. "Well, it's been real, but I've gotta get ready now. It shouldn't take nearly as long as you, though, so I'm sure I'll see you soon enough."
Huffing out a laugh at the harmless dig, I smirk and ask, "Do you want any help? I just watched this earth show about teenagers who always have...unique eye makeup. I could try to recreate it for you."
Elizabeth visibly shudders. "Uh, no. Last time you came near me with a brow brush I ended up with half my eyebrow missing and an actual black eye. I'll just do it myself, thanks." Retreating towards the front door, she adds, "I'll meet you at the party," then leaves the room like her life depends on it. With how bad I am at doing makeup, it very well might.
