Xanadu stood in an area marked on four sides by pots of fire sitting on pedestals. The flames were her only lighting, but they were quite bright, flashing off the golden beads and sequins heavily adorning the purple bodysuit that covered all of her but her head, hands, and feet. As usual when she danced, her feet were bare.

Generally, she wore belly-dancing attire when she performed, but when she planned on doing acrobatics, she wore a bodysuit, not wanting the many layers of her skirt to get in the way when she flipped and tumbled. Her long curls hung in a thick braid down her back. Several tendrils had already broken free of their confinement, curling about her face.

The music started. She was dancing to only drums tonight. The primitive beat fit her mood. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. All the worries and cares of the day dropped away as she began the intense concentration she needed for this dance.

She started with the knives. Picking them up one by one from the table at the back, she set them to spinning around her head one at a time. When she had all six going, she began to move, slowly at first with a few gentle hip rolls, and then faster. She bent backwards, still juggling, until her head nearly touched the floor. She lifted one leg high into the air, balancing on the other one. As if that wasn't enough, she stood on her toes, making balancing even more difficult.

She heard indrawn breath and soft exclamations from her audience as if it came from far away. Nothing existed for her now but her body and the knives. The flexible young woman felt the strain in her abdomen as she moved her body upright again.

That was the most difficult trick she could do with all six knives. Throwing them high in the air, she let three of them fall, the blades sticking into the ground. Now she leaped and twirled, sending the knives backwards, forwards, and between her legs, catching them effortlessly and setting them flying once again. She smiled as she danced ... a beautiful, captivating smile.

Xanadu felt as if she were a different person when she danced. It was impossible to plan her moves in advance, so her concentration was completely on her movements and the knives. The hard shell she wrapped around herself for protection faded away. The hard look fell from her face. She was soft, sweet, sexy, feminine ... it was difficult to believe such a beautiful, enchanting woman killed galdori for fun.

Finished with the knives, she set them back on the table. She went into a triple handspring, ending in a back flip. Bending backwards again, she picked up the sword she had placed at that very spot. When she rolled herself upwards, she was holding the blade of the sword between her teeth.

She performed a few more acrobatics with the sword in her mouth, then flipped it upwards, and caught it in back of her without looking. She set the sword to flipping and twirling as she spun, leaped, and danced. Her mind was fully on the sword, making certain every catch was perfect. This weapon was not particularly sharp; she had several different ones depending on what kind of dance she decided to do. This was the dullest of the lot. If she missed, it would definitely hurt her, but was unlikely to accidentally sever any limbs. Still, the danger of dancing with swords was an exciting experience.

Sweat formed beneath her bodysuit. She felt it trickling down her arms and legs. Dancing like this took a great deal of energy, but she didn't care. She worked all of her stress off as she flipped and twirled, until at the end of the dance, there was nothing much left ... just peace and the joy of a performance done well.

Catching the sword for the last time tonight, she lifted it high, knelt down, and held it in front of her. She bowed her head as the drums stopped. The audience applauded.

Another dance well done. Another short period of total joy and peace of mind.

It was what she lived for.

It was who she was.