Biana Vacker Costume Novels & Stories

She found the violin case near locker 413, just as the message promised. Inside: a passport, an invitation printed on thick ivory cardstock, a set of jewelry she’d never wear, and a slim keycard with her new name. Bianca Volkova. Wealthy. Russian. Collects modern art and Cold War memorabilia. Mysterious. Untouchable. A lie polished into elegance. She studied the details like scripture. Every false fact could be the difference between getting out or disappearing forever. That night, Ayla stood before the mirror in the dress that came with the persona—black silk, high slit, diamonds like frost across her collarbone. She didn’t look like herself.

The room itself was a wooden interior with a yellow light that resembles a lot of pubs in Vacherie. People around her were dancing, drinking like there was no tomorrow and she can’t help but enjoy the scenery with everyone wearing some sort of a Halloween outfit. A woman was wearing slutty cat costume, a guy in a Frankenstein monster mask, beautiful blondes in angel wings, buff men in lumberjack outfits (though both Vadim and Armand look ten times better than any of them), and many more.

A figure stepped out of the shadows. Bianca. She appeared with an ironic smile and eyes gleaming with satisfaction at seeing me like this. She was dressed completely differently—no fancy dresses or Louboutins. Now she wore leather, boots, and a black jacket. Cold. Sharp as a blade. “You?” My voice came out hoarse. “What are you doing here?” She let out a low chuckle and walked toward me like she was on a runway. “Surprised, darling?” She leaned in, just inches from my face.

Tyran Nivekle, Viana's dad, let out. "Before she does that or before you do anything to anger her again, we will make the announcement and confirm everything first, okay?" said Dad. I nodded at my dad's words. Before I could say something else, I felt the familiar sensation of having Viana nearby. I could always feel it whenever she was close. My eyes traveled to the entrance of the ballroom. She was indeed here. Wearing a black strapless off-shoulder gown, she slowly took a step one by one. Her hair had been let down, reaching down to her chest. I would be lying if I said she didn't look like a real princess.

she whimpers as I hold her glass out for her to take. "Take your glass, Bambina." "I can't." "Of course you can," I encourage, placing it in her palm as I note Niko entering the room with Bianca hanging on his arm. She's dressed in a Red dress that I'm sure came from Emma's rail in my closet.

Frankie sits up straight, his heartbeat increasing again as he leans forward, peering at the stage. When Bambi appears, his mouth falls open – not only because she’s…gorgeous. But god, because she…she really cleaned up. Gone, obviously, are the articles of men’s clothing that she stole out of Christian’s closet. Instead, she’s wearing a blue bikini set with rhinestones all over it, and sky-high heels, and her mane of blonde hair…god, but it flows around her, fresh and clean, looking like satin under the stage lights.

"That's not rhetorical, so you better answer me." "No—" Bianca's skin cycled through colors and patterns before settling on Blackwatch plaid to match her skirt, her mind subconsciously trying to camouflage her from the threat in front of her. "Bu-but—" "Buh-buh-but!" Q mocked, crossing his eyes and bucking his teeth. "Ebeh-dee-dee-dumb bitch, swallow! You know how to do that right? Yeah, I remember you now! Yeah, you're real good at swallowing, ain't that right boys?"

Bianca could be anything but one thing no one could deny, she was gorgeous. With cheekbones so sharp and prominent they looked like they could cut through glass and shiny platinum blonde hair, she was a real life Barbie. I raked my eyes across her outfit, honking my horn as she looked up. Recognition flashed across her face for the briefest second, before she reapplied her gloss, heading in my direction. She had on a sundress, decorated with flowers in different shades of blue. It accentuated her slender figure, hugging her waist snugly. Her hair was in a loose braid hanging limply over her shoulder.

A team of professional makeup artists arrived and did our makeup and hair while I sat in my seat almost robotically, replying to whatever was asked of me. A rack of designer gowns was delivered to his house. Bianca wore a green colored cocktail dress and I chose the black one. It was a long, mermaid-style dress with a long slit. I paired it with a set of black heels. Bianca and I hooked our arms together and walked out of the house. Lucky for me, it was Bianca's driver who was driving us to the party, not Nikolai's. Marco hasn't been around either. "What's wrong, E, you don't seem like yourself" she placed a hand over mine and squeezed.