Sophia Kraken's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Sophia picked up a jar labeled "Deadwax Foundation" and twisted off the lid. The cream inside was thick and smooth, nothing like the chalky plaster powder she'd been using. She dabbed some on the back of her hand and watched it spread evenly across her green skin. The coverage was better than anything she'd tried before. Her fingers trembled as she reached for another jar, then another, testing each formula on different patches of her arm. Some were too yellow, others too pink, but one shade matched perfectly. She held her arm up to the light and couldn't see any green showing through. This was what she needed to learn—how to choose the right products, how to layer them properly, how to make them last all day without streaking or fading. A door at the back of the shop stood open. Sophia walked toward it and peered inside. Tile walls lined a small room with three chair stations facing cracked mirrors. The mirrors sat in wooden frames with faded paint peeling at the edges. This looked like a salon—the kind where performers changed their faces before going on stage. She stepped inside and sat in one of the vintage chairs. The mirror showed her green-tinted reflection clearly. She opened the jar of foundation that had worked on her arm and began spreading it across her cheek. The cream glided on smooth and covered the green completely. She worked carefully, blending it into her jawline and up to her hairline. When she finished, half her face looked human again. Her chest felt tight as she stared at the difference. This was real progress. She just needed to practice more, to learn the right techniques, to study how much pressure to use and which direction to blend. Each time she practiced, she got closer to looking alive again. She finished the other half of her face and studied her reflection. The foundation looked perfect in the dim salon light. But what about outside? What about under chandeliers at the balls? She needed to test this. Sophia grabbed the foundation jar and hurried out of the salon, through the shop, and onto the street. A spotlight stood mounted on a wooden pole near the store entrance. The metal housing showed rust spots, but the light still worked. She positioned herself beneath it and tilted her face up. The bright beam showed every detail. Her makeup held—no green showing through, no streaks, no patches. She turned her head left and right, checking every angle. The foundation stayed smooth and natural-looking even under harsh light. Her hands shook as she touched her cheek. This was what she'd been searching for. The right products. The right techniques. The beginning of mastering her disguise. She could do this. She could learn to look alive again.