Dallin Kaza's Story

The Divine Skies were filled with a buzz that evening as the sun cast an array of intense blues and purples across the skies, lining the snaking clouds that coiled around the tips of the highest of Zanzaria's buildings. That light pierced through a particular glass-tipped skyscraper, flooding the vast room and all its visitors.

Within that room, a special show was being held for high-paying guests willing to see the several performances that had just begun. The Nizzriala, it was called, starting with a display of the most glorious and upcoming fashions that big dog designers had artfully created.

The stage was in the midst of the room with four catwalks stretching in opposite directions. The stage curled up in a spiral staircase that grew into a tiny platform made of a material of crystal that absorbed the sun's violet hues. The models poured out from a portal inside of the bottom platform, and the flickers and clicks of hovercams began.

Every model was both bizarre and unique to one another, from their species to their outfit. One woman had a set of horns that curled wide around her head, adorned with so many golden chimes that one could hardly see the ivory horns anymore. Another had a dress that trailed in a ghostlike fashion above the floor, dissipating into mist and reforming as the model walked. Yet another, an alulan man who was tall, lithe, and handsome, had his plated tail end with what seemed to be the skull of a callandaline, a native Misranan cat. It rose high above his head, growling sassily at the crowd as the man crouched onto the floor at the end of the stage.

Sitting at a table in the back, alone, was a young woman with a set of small blue horns coiled closely to her head of thick, golden-brown curls. Her eyes matched the sapphire of her horns, which also matched her dress, which stood out much less than the models on stage, but was still pricey and expensive compared to most others. It had a slit that started mid-thigh and a fur collar around her shoulders. She leaned her chin atop her fingers, watching with giddy intrigue.

The models strutted their colors and charms across the walkway, the hovercams flashing, the crystalline light dancing vibrant patterns across the walls.

From the milling throngs of aristocrats and photographers came a tall, handsome human man garbed in an elaborate gilded robe. He talked as quietly as he could to the aide at his side amid the white-noise and the music, his counterpart diligently scribbling away at a holoboard in his hands.

The man's icy blue eyes passed briefly over Kaza before doing a quick double-take. What was this? Pretty girls at the Nizzriala were not uncommon, but the smart ones attached themselves to a fat-pursed date the first chance they had. Perhaps even more alarming was the unfamiliarity. He didn't recognize her... and this particular patron knew just about every Misranan in the room down to their million-Meldel shoes. Or hooves.

"Paramis," the human said to his aide, "who is that girl? I thought I had the names of everyone coming to this event last night."

The aide, a squat, fat-nosed Malemni, shuffled uncomfortably. "I meant to tell you sir. She's a walk-in."

"A walk-in? When's the last time we had a walk-in?"

"I don't know, sir, but I'm afraid she flashed such an unseemly sum of money at the door that it would have been..." Paramis gulped, "...imprudent... to bar her entry. There were many bystanders."

The human sighed. "Tell me these things ahead of time, Paramis."

"I'm sure it won't compromise anything, sir. Just the daughter of a nobleman with money and time on her hands. A passerby. It shouldn't interfere-"

"That's not the point," his voice took on a steely edge, his white teeth flashing like fangs in his mouth, "she's an unknown variable. A wild card. I don't like not knowing who my guests are." He straightened up, brushing lightly at the sleeve of his robe. "You know what this particular show means. You know what we're staking."

"How in the gods' names will she disrupt..."

"She will disrupt nothing," he snapped, glaring, "but if she's different than the rest of these people, then there will be... complications." He frowned. "Go attend to the preparations. I'll see to her myself." The Malemni wandered off.

The human walked gracefully over to Dallin, offering the young girl a charming smile. Tall, broad-shouldered and lightly tanned, he cut quite the figure despite the relative modesty of his dress-ware. "Madame," he bowed slightly at the waist, "my name is Aarim Stromn, assistant to Mar'ique Slovi'um, chief director and designer of this year's Nizzriala." The last he pronounced with a masterfully accented flare. "I must extend you by deepest apologies. I try to make a point at greeting all my guests personally before the show starts. You appeared to have slipped by." He offered a carefully manicured hand. "Perhaps we can rectify this oversight?"

A young scruffy looking human went along and put up posters for a show coming to the Zanzarian Port.

It was technically an EDM tour, though a local electro-swing duo would be opening the show. They were the secret attendance booster. It was a good idea to include them in the show. Humans weren't the majority here. Synthe Gridd, human, took up the majority of the poster with her face.

Someone stopped him as he put up his second to last poster of the day, asking for details on where to buy tickets. He told them, and off they went.