Nox City pulsed with life, every flicker of neon a promise and a lie. Rain slicked the pavements, turning the metropolis into a kaleidoscope of distorted color. Eira stood beneath the awning of a crumbling arcade, her heels clicking on the concrete as she adjusted her coat’s high collar. It was a futile attempt to block the invasive smell—a mix of ozone and garbage—that defined this part of town.
But what truly defined her, was the costume she wore underneath.
Layer by meticulously designed layer, Eira’s outfit was a striking homage to a character far removed from the dreary confines of her reality. Her mint-green hair, glossy and vibrant, spilled down her back like flowing water. It shifted under the flickering streetlights, catching and reflecting the city’s electric blues and pinks. The simple styling of her bangs framed her porcelain face, emphasizing her ethereal allure. She could’ve stepped out of any number of fantasy worlds, yet here she was, draped in the grit of real-world decay. Her corset—a black, leather-like construction—hugged her torso with dangerous precision, creating a sharp silhouette. Its sweetheart neckline was flanked by white, feathered accents that fluttered in the storm’s breath, making her appear almost otherworldly in the downpour. Bright pink arm sleeves gave her entire ensemble a dissonant yet arresting pop of color.
The piece de résistance? Two small, bat-like wings perched atop her head, their translucent membrane shimmering like oil slicks. The wings were lightweight but startlingly realistic, giving an edge to her composite beauty—part enchantress, part demon. A studied take on Morrigan Aensland, the succubus queen, spun to life in a way that walked the knife’s edge between captivating and deadly.
“You’re late.”
The voice pulled her attention to her left. Leaning against the rusting wall of a ramen stall was Kade, his ever-present cigarette a pale ember against the night. His trench coat barely concealed his weapon belt, the hilt of his blade catching stray flickers of neon. He didn’t smile, but there was an amused gleam in his eyes as he appraised her outfit.
“Sorry,” Eira said, pulling her coat tighter as if the gesture could contain the power she radiated tonight. “The wings took… longer than expected.”
“Well, they’re worth it,” he said with a low whistle. “Almost makes me forget about the, y’know, small problem we’ve got with CranialTech Corp.”
Eira shot him a glare, brushing past him toward the alley, her heels echoing like gunshots in the empty corridor. “CranialTech isn’t a small problem, Kade. They’re harvesting neural signatures and using them to weaponize dreams. That’s anything but small.”
Kade pushed away from the wall and followed her, adjusting his pace to keep up. “Right. Which is why you’re dressed like a video game succubus. Because our plan wasn’t dangerous enough without adding cosplay to the mix.”
“The gala is their one weak point,” Eira replied sharply, her green hair flowing around her as she gave him a defiant glance. “It’s high-security, yes, but they’re expecting the city’s elite. Not some… eccentric nerd-goth hybrid.”
“Touché.” Kade smirked and flicked his cigarette into the rain, the ember fizzling into oblivion. “You’re sure this’ll work?”
“No,” she admitted, though there was no hesitation in her voice. “But if we’re lucky, they’ll assume I’m just another rich obsessive trying too hard to make a statement. Once I’m in, I’ll disrupt the neural relay while you—”
“—charm my way past the guards because I’m devastatingly handsome,” Kade interrupted, his grin widening. “Got it.”
Eira rolled her eyes but allowed herself a faint smile. Tension hung between them, though neither spoke of it aloud. This wasn’t their first high-stakes infiltration, but something about this mission felt heavier. Maybe it was the implications—stealing a corporation’s most valuable tech—and maybe it was something else. Something harder to name.
The Ballroom Beneath the Stars
The gala was a whirlwind of elegance and greed, sparkling chandeliers casting their glow over sleek tuxedos and bejeweled gowns. Eira’s heels clicked on the marble floor as she entered, coat abandoned and her full Morrigan-inspired costume revealed. Conversations quieted; heads turned. For a moment, every gaze in the room was fixed on her.
She straightened, an unseen current of confidence rushing through her veins. She’d been anxious a moment ago, but now she was Morrigan—every movement deliberate, every step a claim. The bat wings atop her head twitched slightly, their subtle animatronics programmed to respond to her motions, adding a layer of realism to her disguise.
An elderly man in an obscenely expensive suit approached, his eyes sweeping over her outfit in obvious admiration. “Stunning,” he remarked as he extended a hand. “Marvelous interpretation of Morrigan Aensland. Do tell—are you with KinetiCorp’s entertainment division?”
Eira stifled a smirk and placed her hand lightly in his. “I’m afraid I can’t reveal all my secrets, Mister…?”
“Roth,” he supplied with a too-wide smile. “CEO of CR-Tech Holdings. I have to say, your presence at this gala makes me feel woefully underdressed.”
They exchanged idle banter while Eira’s eyes mapped the room, silently feeding her observations into the retinal overlay embedded in her contact lenses. Kade’s voice crackled softly in her earpiece. “Target’s in the northeast wing. Are you done playing cosplay ambassador?”
“Two minutes,” Eira murmured, flashing Roth a dazzling smile as she excused herself.
The Heist
When she entered the northeast corridor, the opulence of the gala melted into cold, industrial sterility. The corridor hummed faintly with the energy of the neural relay buried within its walls. Eira touched her wristband, activating the disruptor, and a soft vibration reassured her it was operational.
“Status?” Kade’s voice was clipped now, urgent.
“In position,” she replied. Her heart raced as she approached the terminal, its display lighting up under her proximity. Her reflection stared back at her—green hair, impossibly pink sleeves, and a glint of determination in her eyes. With deft movements, she began the override sequence.
The alarm came too soon.
Red lights bathed the corridor as Kade burst through the side door, his blade already drawn. “Guess you tripped their system! Time to go.”
Eira cursed, grabbing the disruptor and slinging it across her back. By now, guards were closing in, guns glinting in the crimson light. She sprinted alongside Kade, her boots skidding as they turned the corner.
“Do I get to say ‘I told you so’ now?” Kade shouted, ducking a hail of gunfire.
“Do it after we survive this,” Eira shot back, yanking him toward an emergency stairwell marked with glowing green arrows.
The Escape
By the time they emerged onto the rain-soaked roof, Eira’s wings were hanging limply, her costume damp but still dazzling under the city’s neon sprawl. They reached their extraction point—a cloaked hovercraft hovering silently above the building. Kade grabbed her hand, yanking her toward the rope ladder.
As they ascended, she glanced down, catching one last look at the chaos they’d unleashed. The guards’ shouts, the fractured windows, the broken opulence—it all mingled with the pounding of her heart. When the hatch of the hovercraft closed behind them, sealing them in safety, she let out a shaky breath and collapsed against the wall. Kade dropped down beside her, his grin unshaken despite the desperation of their escape.
“Told you the wings were a nice touch,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
Eira laughed, the tension finally breaking. “Don’t get used to seeing me in feathered sleeves, Kade.”
“Never said I would,” he replied, softer this time. His gaze lingered, his smile fading into something more serious. For a moment, neither spoke. In the silence, the danger they’d escaped was replaced by something quieter, but no less intense.
“Let’s just survive tomorrow first,” she whispered, mint-green locks framing her flushed face.
“Deal,” Kade murmured.
As the hovercraft carried them into the stormy night, their mission only half complete, Eira closed her eyes, torn between relief and the increasing weight of what they’d set in motion. She may have been pretending to be Morrigan tonight, but the real battle—one that required something far more human—was still ahead.
This was far from over.
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Morrigan Aensland Cosplay: Unleashing the Succubus Magic in Style
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