True to her "threat" to Rook a few evenings ago, Anya had gone through various costume ideas in order to select something appropriate and not entirely cliche. She vetoed the old favourites of Frankenstein, zombies or mummies - partly because they were done to death if not done incredibly well, and partly because coming as "sexy" zombie lady was scary for... entirely the wrong reasons.
Costumes had altered greatly since she was a kid.
But thinking of holidays past, and the precious moments with her children during Halloween had taken her thought process on a slightly different slant.
Anya's costume held the eerie suggestion of what she could become, should she let the Wyrd mold and twist her any further still. Beneath the black and purple cape, deadly horns and clip-on elongated nails, sharpened to points was a mien a little too in keeping with the costume. Against the flowing arms of her outfit, her genuine talons gave the illusion of being longer. Her fangs, when she deigned to smile, appeared more savage than usual; as if she were Maleficent mid-transformation.
Yellow eyes scrutinised the other costumed Lost, and were clear and cold against the faintly purple shimmer to her skin - that at least was make-up. The dark purple scales across her cheeks were, of course, a natural part of her. Her Mantle burned brightly, framing the evil but captivating villainess. If Anya was aware of the line she currently walked between costume and... her potential, it was not reflected in her bearing.
She turned to the Horned King - better known as Rook, as he stood beside her and held out a hand - carefully, as always when she did not intend to maim.
"I think we're right on time."
Costume