Crowley Good Omens Long Hair Novels & Stories

Elora’s POV I fastened my steps and wasted no time changing into my omega uniform. I almost forgot to tie my long hair but good thing I remember. The omega leader hated to see the omegas with messy and untied hair. The last thing I wanted was to have unnecessary confrontations with her for something as trivial as untied hair.

Came Cordelia’s voice from across the room. Her greying hair was woven into a thick braid that hung over her shoulder, and her eyes were sympathetic as they looked my way. She held a tiny amber bottle in her hands and pressed her thumb against the opening until a little droplet stuck to her finger. Rowena stood at her side, a white candle and a small leatherbound book in her hands.

On Slone, it just looks gaudy. Slone pulls back her hair which has gone completely white since I last saw her. Not in the same way that old ladies have white hair, but in the strange way that a lot of younger people die their hair an almost purple-gray. But her hair wasn’t turned with a bottle of bleach in an LA salon, hers was twisted by dark magic. “Gods she reeks,” Connor points out. “She smells like rot and too much perfume.” For not the first time tonight, I wonder about what magic she has performed lately to make her smell so fully like a warlock.

"The people are terrified. They will believe whatever keeps them alive." Footsteps echoed in the corridor above. Multiple sets of boots, moving with purpose. We all tensed as the sound grew louder. "They are coming for us," Rhett said simply. The heavy door at the top of the stone stairs creaked open. Torchlight flooded down as armed guards descended, followed by a figure that made my blood freeze. Lord Ravenclaw was exactly what I had expected. Tall, silver-haired, with the same cold blue eyes as his daughter. He wore the crown of the Ironfang dynasty on his head like it belonged there.

Chloris stood to the side as she brought out a small book with leather binding. I tried to get a good look at it but was distracted by her dress. it almost looked like the greens and blues of her dress were moving slowly. She was the most odd looking person I had ever met. Her white fluffy hair was long and almost to her waist. She had quick hands and her eyes were full of kindness and concern. I looked over at Deacon who stood in the corner. He stared long and hard at what was going on before his eyes finally landed on me. I couldn't decipher the look in his eyes but I didn't like it.

There was a lot of confusion. “Oh, there you are.” Freya said with a sigh of relief as she spotted the girl with the long straight black hair and that signature eyeglasses and cold and sharp eyes. “By the way, what happened to your hair? How come it became so long in such a short time?” Freya inquired. Walking towards the Student Council Secretary and letting her hair flow from her fingers as she observed them closely. “Oh, you had extensions. That is such a brilliant idea.” Freya added as she noticed those little metal things in Hestia’s hair.

They’re just knocked out. Once the smoke started clearing out, what they’ve seen next had all of them in awe. Z was holding her hands together, a black sleeve coiling in her arms, just as her body had been embraced by an obsidian-black almost tangible shadow, forming that of a cloak with spikes in the end, her gray hair tied in a messy bun, giving way to the creepy smirk going on about Z’s face. “Her shadow,” whispered Marjorie, her mouth wide open. “I thought she lost it.”

The longer he looked at the figure, the more he had the feeling of seeing into a blackness. The figure wore a long robe that was completely black. A hood with gold ornaments was pulled deep into the demon's face. Black hair protruded from the hood and the strands danced slightly in the wind. But in addition to the long hair, two horns protruding from the hood had caught Godric's attention. They were black and long. They were mighty horns that weren't too big. They matched the size of the unknown.

She remembered her mom telling her about her Luna Ceremony and how she was so nervous about falling down the stairs. “Oh dearest, you look so beautiful.” Clary was beaming at her granddaughter through the mirror as the lady hired to do her hair was putting the finishing touches to the curls. Her hair was pulled up into an intricate knot at the back of her head with delicate curls softly falling to her shoulders and framing her face. The lady had even threaded gold chains throughout the hairstyle.

Her physical features were a study in subtle elegance, creating an impression of quiet strength and kindness. Clara's hair, the color of chestnuts kissed by sunlight, fell in soft waves around her shoulders. The strands glimmered with natural highlights, catching the light as she moved. She often tied her hair back in a loose ponytail, allowing a few tendrils to frame her face delicately.