Soul Switched

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Charlie shut the water off and stepped out of the lava shower after she rang out her hair. Steam poured in and out of her lungs, yet it was relaxing. She plucked a scarlet towel off of a rack that supplied them and dried off in front of the vanity mirror. Her head dipped, and her jaw went slack at the sight. Even her toenails were black.

The shocked blonde studied her fingernails for comparison. While her toenails were a normal cut length, her manicure was a bit lengthy for her own taste. As an aspiring musician in her previous life, long nails were a huge no for her, therefore she was not accompanied to them. Charlie tucked the towel around her torso like a mini dress.

Alastor already had everything she could ever think of (even what she could not) laying around, so maybe he had materials for grooming. Charlie rummaged through each of the drawers to the vanity one by one. She located a makeup bag in the top left, then a set of hair curlers, a mani/pedi bag, and a comb kit in the top right. Her hands immediately swung out the drawer below it. Over a dozen shades of nail polish were gathered inside.

There perched a velvet, crimson chair of French design beside her, but she hopped up on the countertop and resided there instead. She rummaged through the pouches and bags.

She started with clipping her nails—short, but not too short. The petite damsel went for the face powder next. She possessed minor surprise that Al managed to get the exact correct shade. Charlie examined her white forearm as she sucked in a breath, attempting to not release it, but it heaved out of her anyway. Then again, it probably was not all that hard to guess. She twisted her waist sideways to catch the dead girl in the mirror. The skeleton narrowed its hollow eyes in response, almost challenging her.

"You're next."

Once she was fully groomed, she exhaled at her reflection as a newfound comfort was brought to her. She slipped off the counter and landed on the balls of her pasty feet. Charlie located a soft, blush pink robe in her size hanging up on a hook from behind the bathroom door. After removing her damp towel and sliding it on, she emerged into her bedroom, making a beeline for the wardrobe. She wanted to wear something different today. Something more...modern. The problem was while all of the clothes Alastor had prepared for her were stunning with impeccable taste, she missed her own fashion.

Charlie dropped the robe on the floor and flipped through her choices.  She was hasty to pull on a pair of black tights, then slid on a pastel button up with black studs, which she buttoned before tucking into a flared skirt at her waistline. The garment was designed to drop to her kneecaps, but in this fashion, it only covered to her mid-thighs. The young girl took a moment to admire the golden engravings of roses along the hem of the cerise fabric. Her feet carried her over to the full length mirror by her dresser, where she adjusted her sleeves until they were neatly folded at her elbows.

"Hm, something's missing," Charlie muttered, tapping her chin. She trotted over to a box on her dresser that was built of polished, black ebony. Alastor had it filled to the brim of ribbons, bows, and other pendants or gemstone brooches for his guest to accessorize with. She opened it, plucking out a pitch black ribbon of satin. Her hands went to weave it in her hair, but she stopped.

'I have a better idea.'

After tying it around her neck into a makeshift choker, she whipped open the door to the hallway with a large beam across her cheeks. "Gosh, I'm starved," Charlie panted to herself. "Alastor is probably down in the ki—" She paused when she heard a song on a radio playing. Her attention moved to one of the French doors of Alastor's chamber at the end of the corridor. It had been left ajar, where a jazz song poured out from behind it. Charlie's face lit up. "Oh, good! He's right there," she remarked. The chirpy demoness marched across the hallway. The nearer she drew, the clearer the song became.