The penthouse is covered in chaos… but it's beautiful chaos.
Lilith kneels near the windows, a swirling bottle of aromatics in one hand and a remote control in the other. She clicks a button and soft pink mist begins to slither from hidden vents, casting the room in a sensual haze. The Zhaovaril skyline glittered through the massive glass panels, a thousand neon stars framing the living room now transformed into a private fashion theater.
A runway of glass and polished black lacquer ran down the center, lit from beneath with shifting colors that shimmered like moonlight on water. A throne, high-backed, carved of dark wood and cushioned in emerald velvet, stood at the head of the runway. It was positioned perfectly to frame Solavara in regal elegance, as though the room, the night, the world, had been arranged for her.
Lilith stands up and stretches. "Not bad for two days' notice," she says smugly.
