It’s a difficult task to stop a room to look at you, but she knew what she was doing and accomplished just that. In a world like theirs, the expectations were clear, the options put in place already, so when someone steps outside the norms, it does not go unnoticed. But Estella already knew this. Why else would she have done it?

The Masquerade. The one dance in which all the ladies were to wear their finest gowns, and all the gentlemen were to be, well… gentle. Or at the very least they were expected to comb their hair.

Estella, of course, thought this to be ridiculous.

Why should she be forced to get all “prim, proper, and uncomfortable” for the sake of one dance? “Beauty is pain” is what she’d always been told, but she unrespectful disagreed. Pain is pain, and she did not much care for it.

So, on the night of the ball, of the Marvelous Masquerade, she showed up wearing something that she found both comfortable and beautiful, if not a bit taboo.

She wore a crimson suit jacket, buttoned in the front so as to not completely show her bare chest underneath, and a pair of jet black pants that sat high above her waist. Her hair had been chopped short, and her lips were painted black, but it wasn’t her outfit that people were staring at.

No. It was the Raven skull she wore around her neck, and the black feathered mask she wore on her face.

She was a Raven in a ballroom, and she was there to taunt a Wolf.