<Dalaran, Broken Isles ... 2pm. The 1st of November>
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.
A much younger Dominique turns, wide-eyed to the source of the sound behind him. There in the doorway, a goblet of juice has been dropped and its contents are splattered across the floor. He’s met with an identical face, ridden with shock.
“... What did you did you do to your HAIR?!”
It took Dom a moment to register from everything happening at once. He just sat there, wide-eyed and dumb with the pair of scissors. His own hair now cut in choppy clumps.
“I-i...”
“ARE YOU STUPID?”
“NO!” Dom finally snapped back at his twin. “I got tired of doing all your homework, Maverick! I-I wanted to do stuff for myself for once! Now they can tell us apart. You have to do your work and stop cutting your studies. I can’t keep studying for the both of us, okay... I’m tired..”
The now longer-haired twin just stared in utter bewilderment. “You could’ve just SAID THAT. Now you look stupid. Serves you right. Mom’s gunna be so mad at you for cutting your hair.”
“SHUT UP! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” He threw the hairbrush, missing his twin who was laughing, “ITS -OUR- ROOM, STUPID.” “I’M NOT STUPID, YOU’RE STUPID!”
The sound of the kettle loudly whistling immediately rips Dom out of his daydream and back to reality in the little hotel room. He rests a hand over his chest, calming his heart that has lept into his throat as he pulls the kettle from the red hot iron underneath it.
He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and exhaling slowly.
Dominique’s eyes look back to the bathroom, peering at the wig left on the vanity.
In that moment, he felt small... and alone, looking around at the tiny single one-bed hotel room....no fridge... no balcony... not even a radio. His messy bed and the two suitcases he dragged around with him as he hopped from room to room. It was almost time to put on a face and head out to the party. Almost ready to put up the facade of glamour and luxury.
He wondered if he really was stupid to live like this.
