The Little Red Wolf//klaus mikaelson☾

09//witchy business

"Honey, haven't I told you that you have to keep your head still when I'm spraying it?" my mother chastised me for the umpteenth time. "You're going to get all frizzy and I'm going to be too busy to fix you."

I sighed, the corset staring blankly at my face, threatening to break my rib cage. Although, this time, it probably wouldn't hurt as much since I had the ability to heal fast. My mother had already smeared the tons of makeup on my face and made me floss my teeth. I was already certain she would scream at me if I even thought about eating anything tonight.

Oh, how I loved parties like these.

Not

"Abby, go slip into the corset in the bathroom. Don't even touch your face while you're in there!" my mother ordered, just as she took a lipstick from her makeup bag for me when I was all ready in my dress.

Once I stepped into the medieval torture device, I took a blank glare at myself in the mirror.

The supernatural side of me had made me seem a lot more toned. My muscles seemed to bulge with the wolf side of myself. However, the magic side of me made me have this glow about myself that I couldn't shake. It was like, no matter how upset or angry I would get, this hue around me would shine with earthly qualities and keep myself somewhat balanced.

Though, my look seemed a bit gaudy.

My eyes had a purple eye shadow above them that blended in with a darker purple into a black. She had put on some heavy, false eyelashes that made me look like I belonged at a club more than I did at my own home. She had kept my ginger hair calm and pin straight, even though there was not a single hair out of place. My complexion had although been flawless.

Maybe I had looked a bit pretty, but I couldn't really tell.

"You better not be smearing off my work in there!" she shouted from the other side of the door.

"No, no, no," I sighed, opening the door to face my mother who was dressed to the nines. "I'm ready."

She laced up the corset, tugging at it's edges and digging deeper into my ribs even more. I could feel my ribs cracking under the pressure, but it felt a little less worse than it usually did. After she finished, I slipped into a form-fitting, black dress and a pair of some designer heels that I didn't care for.

"I'll meet you downstairs," my mother announced just after she finished the cream lipstick on my lips.

She shut the door behind herself and cascaded down the staircase.

I took a final glance at myself before grabbing my mask. It had flecks of gold here in there in it, but otherwise it was a deep black.

This masquerade was my father's idea. In someway, shape, or form he wanted to help everyone, except be a major asshole to my brother. I was his favorite, even though I just so happened to be a child that my mother had no plan to desire. The "Lockwood Twins" were a false advertisement and we were just victims of trying to hide my father's infidelity.

Downstairs, I could hear my mother praising my brother who was in my father's office. She kept telling him how handsome he was. Funny, she never told me that I was even pretty.

As I descended down the stairs, the cold rush fell deep within me. Feeling the urge to meet the smell with claws and a murder, I shoved the urge down and kept walking. I walked straight out into the backyard where the smell seemed less and did not make me want to choke someone or kill something. There, the warm Virginia air welcomed me.

I caught wind of a few bloodsuckers as the gust of wind blew warm air across my face. Damon and Stefan stood scoping out the ground before Damon locked eyes with me.