Zia d'Phiarlan was in attendance that night for the opera. She had been wanting a simple night on the town for a while, so she figured she'd catch the show before having to go meet her contact. The information she had received from her house was vaguer than usual, but she had learned long ago to just roll with it. She wore a black number for the evening, rather she manifested it; thanks to the new enchantment she had imbued on her armor, the chain shirt was a wardrobe limited only by her imagination. The gown she had made it appear to be was strapless, with a plunging back that revealed the lines of her pale back. The dress swept down past her knees and hovered just above her ankles. She had caught the stares of many men and women alike that were likely hoping her amble breasts would pop right out. No such luck for them. Her blond locks were done up in a bun held in place by a pair of  polished sticks. Zia's heels clicked down the hallway toward the dressing room her contact was waiting in.<br/><br/>Meeting a contact in the Sharn Opera House after hours had to be one of the more glamorous starts to what she knew would be a mission of some sort. It was a far cry to the seedy tavern where she had been sent to stake out when she was sixteen (or the equivalent in Elf years, at least). As her reputation as a dancer on the Menthis Plateau grew, so did her responsibilities and the venues those responsibilities took her too. Arriving at the door, Zia knocked and gave the password, "I dance in the moonlight and in the shadows." She waited, and upon acceptance, she'd enter the room.