brilliant. bad. a little bit mad.

"Something worth hiding is it? Must be good.. im intrigued." she cocked her head "Odile." she answered. "Eventually ill have my own nickname of a kind." she shrugged ."I want something more edgy.. dark colors and purple."

"Darling, I never hide at all- why would I? I look far too fabulous for that." Cynthia extended a leather-gloved hand. "Pleasure's all mine, Odile. As it just so happens, edginess is my specialty. You've come to the right place."

"Its my families style. You can burn them for all I care. Im not leaving in it. Name your price.. if I cant im not worried.. I can always find better." she teased.

"A girl who knows her own taste is a girl after my own cold, shriveled heart," Cynthia smiled, eyeing the girl curiously. "But you won't find better than me, let's get that much clear. I'll name my price later, whoever-you-are, but for now, tell me what you have in mind?"

”Very well, dear,” Cynthia shrugged, “then I won’t tell you not to bother blinding me with your horrendous taste in clothing ever again. But if I were you, I would take it as a suggestion.”

“In that case,” Cynthia retorted, gesturing to the hideous pajamas, “maybe you should’ve stuck to your original plan and stayed home?”

”No, you clearly don’t,” Cynthia sneered. “Maybe try and start where all beginners must- the sales rack. And once you work your way up to the top, maybe I’ll fix you up a proper wardrobe.”

cyn-devil​:

”Leota, please,” Cynthia rolled her eyes. “If you were half the psychic you claim to be, you’d know that I was meant to take over the fashion world and establish my own designer empire, going down in history as an artistic genius. Why, anyone with eyes and good taste could see that, couldn’t they?”

"Oh, dear me! Do I happen to detect a hint of mommy issues? Or stepmommy issues, I should say- either way, not my problem, now is it?"

Wendy was quite taken aback, perhaps it was the fact she barely was talked to in such direct form. Well, when it wasn't a scold from father and orders of going to a boarding school. Although she did spoke something so true that many women shouldn't be afraid to accept, something she learned while seeing those kids always wanting on.

“Those who can, darling, do. Those who can’t, well, they settle down and have all the babies they can. That’s why so many women choose that path- they fear true artistic achievement and greatness. I, however, do not.”

“I am well aware. You think I wouldn’t come with the intention of something else? You think that low of me?” She countered arching an eyebrow with a smirk. “ I want to expand on the style I’m going with.”

"Well, so long as you're aware that you look ridiculous," Cynthia scoffed. "Though from what it sounds like, you seem to have come here for a wardrobe makeover. I can help with that...for the right price, of course."

cyn-devil​:

"I did, as a matter of fact, say that- just not as a compliment," Cyn retorted. "But despite your grief-inducing style, I will be on time for our appointment. Not that I need it- I know what the future holds in store for Cynthia de Vil, and it's going to be fabulous."

Cyn waved off the waitress's lack of knowledge about her. "Yes, you have. But I understand- it's early, you're working a service job, and you're probably dreadfully tired. Your memory must have slipped up." She gave her waitress a look of sympathy, or as much sympathy as someone like Cynthia de Vil could muster. "Tell me, pretty girl, what's your name?"

"Oh" Wendy felt somehow the need to fix her shirt, and placed her hair behind her ears, somehow she felt underdressed, but who wouldn't in front of such fashionable woman like her? To be fair she didn't expect to run to such person in a moment like, "Sorry, I've had a lot in my mind, I kind of forgot about looking more decent than this. It allows me to run and play with kids better though."

“Oh, you poor dear,” Cyn pouted, feeling something like pity for the poor, unfashionable girl. “Having to play and pretend with those wretched little beasts all day. Thank heavens above and hell below I was never a mother, and never shall be. It’s a most unfortunate line of work.”

Cyn laughed triumphantly. “It’s your lucky day, too, my dear. Most who challenge Cynthia de Vil don’t come out nearly as unscathed as you have. Tell me, lucky girl, what’s your name?”

”That was the idea. Why?” Cyn feigned complete ignorance. “What else could Ms. Greta Queen have to offer me? Do you know of anything?” Her grin expanded, and her eyes narrowed, making her resemble a cat about to pounce.