The Moon's Fangs | 1
43 | fashionista

No one batted an eye at my glamour or invitation. I stepped through the entrance, then the following waypoint, and became quickly overwhelmed by the hectic nature of the women’s fitting hall.

The orleizen language echoed off the glistening cream marble, crackling with pale golden flecks.

Women moved in all different directions, either searching for their stylist, seeking out their friends among the mass, or striding around in small groups, gossiping about who wore what.

Stylists with the most unique and out-of-this-world flair were accompanied by their own teams who dressed to match their head stylists. Each team styled multiple women at once while their head stylist tended to all of them, adjusting hems, criticizing or advising their team, and giving orders.

Meanwhile, the girls getting styled were laughing and enjoying a conversation with the girl stationed next to them, oblivious to the fashion chaos.

I tried to not look lost as I searched for Shion amongst the cacophony of perfumes, vibrant colors, and intriguing ensembles. I maintained a straight face and kept my attention forward as if I saw my destination just ahead. But an awkward feeling settled in my stomach after keeping up that facade through over half of the hall.

~Blazing stars, you'd think the organization would play an important role in a place like this.~

I held back a snicker. For reals. There should be signs on the ceiling pinpointing where all the stylists are stationed, at the very least.

I scooched my way through a crowd of women who began to gather around a team of stylists matching a tall woman dressed in nothing but feathers.

Pure, angel-white feathers individually slicked onto her shapely body like a second skin. Many were lined with a sheen of a clear glass-like material, catching the light in the most subtle yet enticing way against her rich praline skin, barely covering her most intimate body parts. Her dyed grey hair was set in a sleek bun, besmeared with a crown of feathers. The whites and greys made her amber-gold eyes pop.

Yet, the most interesting part of the ensemble had to be the glamour she wore only from her knees down, giving them the striking appearance of bird's feet.

I had to remind myself not to gawk in wonder. Or squawk.

I hadn't considered glamours to be used in such a way, but yes, that kind of technology must open all kinds of doors in the fashion world.

She lectured her team of songbird-like stylists about the importance of accessories as she carefully pinned a golden serpent broach into a girl’s black hair. But not just any girl, I realized.

Through the mirror positioned in front of her, my heart dropped when I recognized Danika. Her eyes were closed as a makeup artist worked on applying red and gold to her face, matching the dramatic red of her floor-length dress. Her legs were crossed, showing off the gaping slit running all the way up to her bottom rib where golden serpents matching the one in her hair held the velvety fabric together around her hip.

Another stylist sat criss-cross as he painted whorls of gold across her feet and up around her calves.

The head stylist clicked her tongue in satisfaction of the ongoing work. “If this doesn’t scream Circle Worthy, then nothing ever will!” she peered down to get a look at the whorls being painted on Danika’s feet. “Mm. No, Asule. Those lines are dreadfully too thick. You must start over. Thin lines and sharp ends.”

“Yes, of course, madame.” Asule bowed his head most respectfully before turning to another stylist close by and asking if she would fetch him a hot rag.

“You’re too good to me, Keena.” Danika said, opening one eye to peek at the feathered woman. “I promise you I’m not picky. I won’t notice the difference between thick and thin strokes of paint.”

“Perhaps, but I will.” Keena tisked back. “I will not have our future council woman be nothing less than extraordinary. Arguing with me will do you no good.”

“Keena…” Danika drew out. “Please, the vote is still a way out. I have enough to worry about as is.” A tinge of blush surfaced across the tips of her cheekbones.

“Yes, yes… the abducted mystery friend. Strange how she never mentioned someone chased her in the first place. Hm? If you ask me, it sounds more like a pair of lovers playing a premeditated game of predator and prey. They’re likely holed up somewhere in the fate-forsaken underground ripping each other’s clothes off.”

Flames suddenly burned my face from the stranger’s prognosis about me and Reks.

“Keena!” Danika balked. She moved to whirl around on the stylist, but Keena planted her hands on her shoulders to keep her from moving. She was careful not to accidentally scratched Danikia with her sharp, talon-like nails. “Sakes. No matter the circumstances, your mind is always in the gutter.”

Keena laughed, meeting Danika’s blushing stare through the mirror. “Blame yourself. You bring that side out of me.”

Most of the women around me were mostly focused on the stylists working, gossiping about Keena, and fantasizing about what it would be like to be styled by her. So when Danika did a quick sweep at the women chatting around them, her eyes hesitated for a moment when meeting mine.

She offered a polite smile before resuming her conversation with Keena. It left a weird pang of guilt in my middle.

No words were shared, only a fleeting second of eye contact. Yet it was a lie. Maybe the quickest lie I’d ever told.

However, on the flip side of that same coin, it made me feel stealthy as hell.

Before I could intrude on their conversation a second longer, I pushed my way through the last of the crowd and resumed my search for Shion.

I heard the defiant teenager before laying eyes on her.

“Take it off!” Shion yelled, chunking a handful of pins to the marble floor a few stations ahead - the last one at the end of the long hall.

A woman, possibly in her mid-twenties, gawked at Shion through the mirror in front of them. Her voluminous curly hair was a dark blonde and a third of the way pinned in what looked like an updo in the making. She was pretty, save for the condescending sneer plastered to her ivory face.

“If you think it’s such a piece of gutter trash, then take it off and replace someone else to fix your disaster face.” Shion snapped, nose reddening with anger.

My steps slowed enough to read the identity card Nox pulled up of her, quickly learning the highborn's name to be Tansy Cain.

Immediately, I pictured her as a curly-headed candy cane. Nox approved the thought with a hissing snicker.

Tansy braced both arms of the chair, locking her arms out as she stood. She gave Shion a sniggering pout over a shoulder. “Aw… I’m sorry. Your little ears didn’t get that quite right. Let me clarify for you.” She turned, looking down at Shion. “I actually said that I couldn’t believe they’d let gutter trash like you touch fabrics like this. Just look at you. What a pathetic excuse for a stylist. Who even let you in here? All you’re doing is wasting valuable space and stealing our oxygen.”

Shion’s cheeks flushed to match her nose. Even still, she cupped a hand around her ear and extended her neck. “Eh? What was that? My ears are so tiny. All I heard was that you’re a piece of carcon shit!”

~Ooo, burn!~ Nox coiled around my shoulders in its projection form. ~For reference, a carcon is similar to a rat on planet Earth. Except a carcon is the size of a house cat and its skin is similar to a crocodile's. They are known for their vile stench and vicious disposition. They mostly dwell around the ruins outside of the oasis.~

A few girls stopped what they were doing and now listened in on the ensuing drama. I quickened my pace, trying to close the gap and break up the argument before things could escalate.

Something dangerous flashed across Tansy’s lizard-green eyes. She stepped forward, her voice taking on the tone of sweet death as she tucked Shion’s surprisingly combed hair behind her ears. “I said… do something useful by getting your head bashed in by the Horde.”

My body reacted before rational thinking could.

The palm of my hand stung as I slapped the girl hard across the cheek.

Gasps ensued in the air around us.

"Fates... is that the Voa girl?" someone whispered. "Since when did she turn so hostile?"

Shion took a step back, equally surprised. Tansy touched her blistering cheek, outrage slowly simmering in her sharpening gaze. “Who in Shayd's fuck do you think you are? How dare you lay a hand on me!”

Ah, crap. I acted out of character.

My blood raced through my veins, pumping adrenaline. Acting dodgy now would only raise more questions. I had to see it through.

I tossed Tansy a dispassionate glare, pretending to inspect my weaponized hand. “Is your Guide that slow, or are you too lazy to read for yourself?”

Also, I couldn’t remember my glamoured alias in the heat of the moment.

“Excuse me?”

Loren, I remembered. Lo-ren.

Nox went belly-up across my shoulders in a hissing fit of hilarity.

Another girl stepped in, pulling Tansy into her arms. “Stars on Fire, Tans! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Tansy shrugged off the helping hand. “This bitch just assaulted me, that’s what.”

“Someone should call over security.” said someone from the growing crowd.

“Good, please do.” I prompted, giving the girls a quick scan before giving Tansy a dirty once-over. “I’d love to have a chat with them about how Tansy Cain intimidates minors into committing suicide.”

Tansy’s face paled. Her friend looked from her to Shion, blinking. “You did what?”

“Nothing.” Tansy snarled, shoving the dress aggressively off her body, leaving it in a pile on the floor to stand in nothing but her intimates. “What are you staring at?” she shoved her way through the girls, giving me one last threatening glare over her shoulder before storming into the nearest restroom. A few girls followed her while the others slowly dispersed back to whatever they were doing before.

Tansy’s friend, the one who came to check on her, gave Shion one last apologetic look before returning to her own stylist.

“Never pegged you to be the violent type.” Shion grumbled under her breath as she gathered the dress on the floor into her arms.

“Violent?” I blinked. “I’m not violent.”

I followed her to her traveling cabinet, where she carefully hung it back onto the rack. “You sure ’bout that? This is what, our third encounter, and I’ve seen you be violent every time.” one of her brows rose when I shot her a confused look. “Plant sabotage by ass, punching a cage fighter, and slapping a high rank in front of her peers..." she jogged my memory.

“Oh.” I grimaced, realizing her point. “Well under normal circumstances, I’m really not that aggressive.”

She pointed for me to sit in the styling chair and I obliged.

“Never said I didn’t like the violence. It’s actually quite entertaining when used for my amusement. But regardless, keep those stunts out of your actions while glamoured as Loren Voa. She's gonna be pissed when she replaces out 'bout Tansy. Lo doesn't like to stir the pot here in the oasis. Not publically, at least.” she said, plopping a stool next to me. She spun my chair around sat on the stool, then tilted my head up. “Eyes closed.” she ordered.

“Well, she deserves much worse for saying those things to you.”

Shion huffed out a breath of laughter. “I won’t be surprised if you’re the only one I get to style now. Killjoy’ll probably send my other three in another direction.”

My breath caught in my chest. No. This was Shion's big opportunity to get noticed by the head stylist. Had I screwed it up by getting involved?

Shion flicked my nose suddenly. "I can practically hear your whining thoughts, you dolt. I've already finished styling several others, so losing three's no skin off my back. Now relax your face."

I opened one eye and grinned at her. “I bet you'll knock everyone's socks off with your designs.”

Shion furrowed her brows together, wiping her fingers down my face to close my eye back shut. “I doubt any of the women will be wearing socks tonight.”

“That’s not… nevermind.” I resigned.

Shion ordered me to not dare look in the mirror until she was completely finished. She snapped at me when I tried to sneak of peek after she finished my hair and makeup, then proceeded to yank me over to her traveling dresser next to her station.

She positioned me behind the open cabinet door to offer some sense of privacy from onlookers. My entire body was glamoured to look like a different person, but it still felt weird to strip in front of a bunch of passing eyes.

It also felt like an invasion of privacy on Loren Voa's behalf. The twins must have a strong trust built between them and the Black Market to allow them to use glamours of them.

While Shion fished out the dress she wanted me to wear hiding somewhere in the back of her dresser, I stole a look around at the other women. They were dressed in the most unique styles, everywhere from animal-inspired to creative twists on nature and elements, in the most vibrant of colors. Some of which were colors my eyes could never depict before obtaining Nox.

“Everyone looks amazing.”

Shion snorted. “Uh-huh. They’re all following dress code to a basic T, which is why this pretty number will steal the show. It’s bound to get Keena’s attention.” she giggled conspiratorially and licked her top lip in eager anticipation, pulling out a dress that looked to be made of the purest, darkest night sky kissed by stardust. “The theme’s s’posed to be ‘primordial’, and there’s nothing more timeworn than the cosmos itself.”

“Shion…” I ran a hand over the beautiful material. “Gods… it’s gorgeous.”

"You have to actually put it on to know if it looks good." A bit of color stained her cheeks. But Shion being her stubborn self held her frown and merely rose her brows at me. “Well? Are ya going to just stand there all naked and stuff or what? I don’t have all day.”

“Oh. Right.” I laughed, barely catching the faintest glimmer of a rewarding smile sneak on the teenager’s face.