The Lady of the Maw silently leaned against a railing, watching as the Guests devoured their disgusting meals. Glutinous creatures, they are.

More youth, for her taking.

She effortlessly glided across the ground, heading to her own quarters, eyes staying on the ground, behind her mask.

Upon reaching her room, The Lady stood by her vanity, beginning to hum gently under her breath. She brushed her hair, emotionless looking at herself in her mirror, the gentle tune of her own voice in her ears.

The shadows seemed to bend tentatively around her, as she gazed into the cracked and disheveled glass. Mirrors she’d crushed, all but one.

She continues to brush out her hair, mostly wanting to look upon her own beauty, in the shattered shards. She was youthful and perfect, no matter the mask .. she always would be.

She cooed gently, closing her eyes as she listened to her own voice, breath slow and countered.