Snippet #1053056

Adair admired the work the hair stylist and makeup artist had accomplished. The makeup artist had been a bit put out because she hadn't been able to do as much around the eyes as desired. But Adair was not about to compromise her identity for the sake of a little extra eyeliner. At this point she ushered everyone out of the room, except for Devan.
She removed her plain black mask. Devan, although he had seen her face many times, still turned away as she replaced the old mask with one that would match her costume for the concert. This one was red and feathered, almost Mardi Gras themed. She would change her outfit and her mask three times throughout the night.
She tied the red mask around her face and even added some skin-safe glue to the sides. Couldn't take any chances, could we? The mask was the only thing that allowed her to hold on to a semi normal life. But, then again, how normal a life could a vampire have?
"You can turn around now, Devan," she informed him. "Would you let everyone else back into the room, please?"
Silently, he complied. Strong and silent type, Devan was. But that was why she liked him.
She was dressed by people she hardly saw. Adair was getting into the zone. That calm, quiet place that carried her through her performance without being overwhelmed by all the noise, the people, the smells, and other things. Someone snagged her hair in a zipper and she slapped their hands away, "Ow!"
She zipped herself up, and checked her reflection in the mirror. Contrary to popular belief, vampires DID have reflections.
She looked flawless, if she did say so herself. With a devilish smile, Adair turned away from the mirror and sashayed from the room. Devan trailed after her, her constant shadow, and more followed. But she was only focused on getting to the stage. She could hear her adoring fans screaming for her, shouting her name like their hearts would break. What an ego boost.
She waited, and finally, the music started and the lights went up. And she was on.