Masks
Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Little Liars and I make no money from this fanfiction.
Mona glances at her reflection- the ordinary girl (well not ordinary precisely, but play-innocent at least) stares back at her, demurely dressed for ultimate academic success (skirt just above knee length, well-tailored crisp white shirt, navy blazer). She likes this role, she loves lording it over Spencer Hastings. (She's been playing dumb for years, wasting 'valuable study time' on elaborate schemes of revenge, and yet she can still beat Spencer- she knows that gets to her). She likes this costume but it's not her favourite (she doesn't even have a favourite; it's just too hard to choose, why stick with one when you can have them all?).
More importantly, this isn't the persona she needs right now.
She slips out of her skirt and pulls on dark blue jeans in a simple, fluid motion. She buttons them up, feeling more fit to walk through uncertain conditions (the 'job' often led her the way of the woods).
She shrugs off the blazer and slowly unbuttons the shirt- making sure to hang it up carefully. She'll never wear it again but it simply doesn't do to get creases in such a nice shirt. The blazer lies crumpled on the floor- a sacrifice of sorts. She puts on a plain black t-shirt and the hoodie goes over it.
She walks over to the desk, easily fishing out her jet black eyeliner from the mass of products- she defines her eyes and applies mascara without having to look in the mirror. She's just that good. She touches up her foundation- no-one's going to see her but she can't go out without her mask (just wouldn't be right).
Her hands hover over her lipstick collection, deciding which pigment to wear- not Toffee Tango (that was so last season). She's tempted to go for her steady (Midnight Plum) but she knows she's got to step it up to compete with red coat.
She picks up a newly nicked tube and she knows that this is the one- Blood Red (not Jungle Red, never Jungle Red). The name is a little on the nose perhaps but why be coy about your intentions?
She pulls the black hood up over her head to complete her transformation; this is her witch's cloak.
She looks, satisfied, in the mirror at her changed reflection. Now she is A again.
Clock strikes three; this is the new witching hour. Maybe stroke of twelve had been magic back then but now so many kids are awake at that time, it kind of spoils the magic; times have changed. Things change faster than you might think.
She picks up her phone, her wand (she can change worlds with it quick as the touch of a button- magic!) and puts it safe in her pocket (kids these days can't go anywhere without their fancy phones). She hesitates over the Ali mask, she doesn't need it now but she wants to wear it anyway. She shunts it aside; you can't always get what you want.
She looks back at the mirror, one last time, and smiles. The white of her teeth seems to match the crescent moon hanging, only partially obscured by cloud, in the sky.
She's ready.
That's it for this ficlet; hope that you enjoyed it! Please leave a review, I love any feedback!