tinashe kachingwe
// appears 24
// vampire
// she dances for the ones who bring her pain.
golden coins jangle about dainty ankles with every step, bracelets adorn her wrists, and her eyes are lined with kohl. her movements are fluid with beguiling grace, but her face is stiff. behind her, several other dancers 
of the same breed mimic her movements, but their countenances are aglow with artificial cheer. tinashe meets the eyes of her captor, but she never smiles. she never has, and she never will. even if she is to be punished, even if they bog her down with frightening utensils that aim to discover the secret behind eternal youth, she never gives them the indulgence of emotion.
they do not deserve it.

she dances for the ones who bring her peace.
her bare feet pounds against the grass as she flees, swift and sure in their course towards where her blood calls her. the baying howl behind her does not impede her steps, and her heart slams rhythmically against her sternum. for the first time in ages, her lips part in a fierce grin as caravan-shaped shadows become apparent in the pale light of the full moon.

freedom is the name, and it has never tasted sweeter.