Whadgaf Jiris was born in the capital of Hafjeris society, Jeriel, that is a fortified city on the largest landmass of the planet Hafjeran. Jiris is the daughter of prominent members of the Hafjeris owner class. Her mother is a member of the Hajeris Flight Command, and her father owns the biggest apartment building in the northern section of Jeriel.
The light through Whadgaf’s skylight casts a faint green glow in her room and she wakes every morning just as the light begins to shine. She lives on the top floor of the Jiris Building that her father owns and she rarely has to leave the suite for anything at all. When she wakes this morning, Whadgaf stands, removes the satin sash around her torso and stretches her wings high; they sometimes cramp because she spends so much time inside and rarely gets the chance to fly as most Hajferis do. She is tall and she has long slender arms and legs, just like her mother, and her wings that grow from her back are very strong. The brown feathers of her wings are always neatly arranged thanks to her personal maid who comes at the same time every morning to help with preening. Before the maid comes, Whadgaf walks out onto her balcony to take in the smells and sights of the morning. The Hafjeran sky line is beautiful and there is an exotic palate of blues and greens that streak the sky and clouds as the morning star slowly rises. Looking out at the structures of the vast guarded city, the tall skyscrapers and the official squat look of municipal buildings and the cylindrical commercial buildings, makes Whadgaf smile; one day she would go out and acquire as much of it as she could afford with the wealth her father was amassing to pass down to her. And in the meantime, while she is still a young woman with a relatively short beak that has started to emerge from just above her top lip, she lives her very guarded life out of the public eye and away from the fun and levity that most Hajferis her age enjoy. The maid comes and Whagdaf sits daintily reviewing the business transactions of the Jiris Building. She is the manager of the building and personally ensures that all daily debts are paid. She was excited to age into her current occupation; the Hafjeris are considered to be working age when they reach maturity which traditionally happens from the late teens years into the mid twenties. She looked up to the hard workers in her father’s business and she wanted to be as they were; happy and successful enjoying the fruits of their hard labor.
As a prominent member of the owning caste, Whadgaf does not socialize with members of the renting class. Her interactions with renters is solely transactional. She doesn’t actively think of herself as better than anyone, though she has passively learned over the course of her life that the renters are indeed a second class that keeps the owners well fed and prosperous.
As Whadgaf works diligently through her morning paperwork, she is rudely interrupted by a crash on her balcony. She flings the doors open and is startled to see that a Hajeran male, roughly her age, has crash landed and knocked into the dining set where Whadgaf sometimes enjoys meals.
“Who are you?!” She asks in a panic while she reaches for the communicator button on the wall to summon security. “You shouldn’t be here!”
The male slowly stands. He does not seem to be harmed, but he moves very deliberately. Whadgaf backs slowly into the room and away from the man. She can hear the head of security through the wall communicator, “Whadgaf, are you OK?”
The male from the balcony is standing up right now and he is stretching his wings. They are much bigger than Whadgaf’s and they are a color red that is not common to the Hafjeris. Whadgaf has never seen wings this color in real life before.
“I have come from the heavens for you Whadgaf Jiris.” The male is smiling and the sharp point of his beak is not intimidating. “You must come with me.”
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