selena / d13 / (fin) cb

Sel had learnt to not look at mirrors if her face wasn’t painted with cosmetics.

What even was her true reflection anymore?

She’d gotten rid of that years ago, upon the theatre stages she acted on for the glamour and within those smoke-cladded bars she frequented for the coins.

True reflections were something a woman such as herself couldn’t afford, not in a world that demanded her to be a new face, a new person, a new allure every single day. She was a shape-shifter, weaving her features into someone else’s, smokes and mirrors all around. She was the actress with a thousand masks and a thousand costumes.

Sel did not mind any of it. It felt better to feel like she was under another’s skin instead of her own.

Perhaps that was the reason she could feel the committee’s eyes on her at any given moment—because Sel was too talented of a shape-shifter that she could become completely someone anew with no prior warning. She could become the enemy, a secret blade pressed to the organization’s throat. The spy, with her radiant smiles and rotten intents.

some nights, in the comforting dark of her room, she wondered:
for the right price, would she let herself become exactly that?