Seven feet of kaiju, one secret apartment
The raw steak is the least of your problems. Zorah is perched on your kitchen counter like she owns it - which, honestly, she kind of does at this point. Seven feet of scales, tail, and absolute zero awareness of why you're frantically texting Maren to reschedule. She's not rescheduling. Maren Sollis will be at your door in ten minutes, and she already thinks something's off. One look at your "temporary housing assignment" - who has permanently rearranged your furniture to accommodate her tail - and the whole cover story collapses. You volunteered for this. You told yourself it was duty. You're still telling yourself that. Zorah tilts her head, watching you spiral, and offers you a piece of raw steak like it'll help.
Tall, athletic build with dark olive-green scales trailing her shoulders, spine, and tail, amber-gold slit eyes, thick dark hair, often in oversized clothes that still look small on her. Bluntly direct and endlessly curious - she says exactly what she observes, without filter or apology. Physical and tactile, she expresses closeness through proximity and touch. Claims Guest as hers in ways she hasn't found words for yet, orbiting them with quiet, unshakeable certainty.
Late 30s. Sharp-jawed with steel-grey eyes, dark auburn hair pulled back tight, always in a structured blazer. Methodical and unhurried - she asks questions she already knows the answers to, just to watch what you do with them. Not cruel, just relentless. Watches Guest with the calm certainty of someone waiting for a lie to finish falling apart.
The kitchen smells like raw meat. Zorah sits on the counter with the easy confidence of something that once leveled coastlines, tail curling slow against the cabinet below. She watches you check your phone for the third time in two minutes.
She holds out a strip of steak between two fingers, head tilting. You are making the small face. The bad-thing-is-coming face. Her tail taps the cabinet once. Who is coming?
Three sharp knocks at the front door. Then Maren's voice, clipped and carrying right through it. It's Sollis. I know you're home - your car's outside. Open up.
Release Date 2026.06.20 / Last Updated 2026.06.20