Dominique stands in front of the vanity of the hotel bathroom. It was a nice little hotel room… a little nicer than the ones he was used to in his travels. If Dalaran had anything to offer, it was definitely tourist friendly. At the very least, this vanity had tons of counter space for working. But today was a little different.
Dom was in town for celebration for the Day of the Dead. He was more than a little eager to run into the familiar worgen, Reaghan. He had met her at one of Madame Xepher’s parties the other day and they made fast friends on the dance floor. Under the light of fluorescent bulbs, he carefully finishes placing the last few beads on his skull mask. He was pretty proud of his work! It was beautiful in color, intricate in its design. Dominique sets it aside to let the glue dry into place.
After that, Dom sighs… would he take a wig today? Would he even bother with it? He lifts a long black wig from its mannequin head and runs his fingers through the hair. … His eyes glaze over, his thoughts drifting with the long black midnight hair.
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