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The rhythm and beat of the drum penetrated down to her core, propelling her movements with a mindless fluidity that made the complex art of her dance seem easy. It was not, any wrong step, any careless swing could mean injury or worse, but the dark lunarian girl was confident in her skill, and that showed true in her actions. There wasn't a hint of hesitation or second guessing even as she twirled the razor sharp swords around her body.

She'd gathered a few attendants and left the privacy of the Xia honke for the seclusion of a field. Not her first choice, by any means, but her home was currently being over run by dignitaries and guests, and she did not delight in their presence. She had felt trapped in her own room, and any creative outlet she may have indulged in would have had an unwelcome audience.

The flowing shelves of her dress were folded up on a blanket beside the kneeling drummers. She'd removed anything that could possibly have gotten in the way. The soul exception was the blush lengths of silken hair that fell on either side. They were an extension of her body, and she controlled their movement with controlled percussion.

Every step, every swing of arm and flash of blade told a story, portrayed an emotion or elicited a response. She had studied the art for years, practiced four times a week since the beautiful hobby had been introduced to her. Her motions we flawless, that is until the misplaced sound of snapping startled her, made her falter, and the glittering arch of one of her swords did not follow it's intended path, but instead slipped from her fingers and landed with a thud not even a foot away from the source of the sound.

Of course she noticed the purple youth immediately, and the remaining sword twirled in Shin's hand, adjusting her grip on the handle before slipping it ever so carefully into the metallic colored band that cinched her thin waist.

Pale green eyes narrowed expectantly, at him, wondering if he had a good reason for interrupting her practice.

Her hands free, Shin smoothed dark palms along her thighs, trying to rid herself of the feel of the hilts she'd previously been holding. Her grip had to be solid while she danced, or bloody mishaps happened, as a result she came away from the whole thing with imprints decorating her skin and the lingering feel of leather along her fingers.

The attendants were all staring and whispering amongst themselves a little behind their mistress, but they wisely kept their voices low enough for her not to notice. Had she noticed she would have sent them home immediately, and likely would have left herself. She didn't take well to being the subject of whispers, or even the suspected subject.

Her attention was on the new comer though, the one that had nearly payed a very high price for his sneaking about. She frowned at him, brows narrowed. Expression a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. Shamed that she'd let the sword slip from her fingers for any reason what so ever, and irritated with him for being the cause of it. she had a bit of a temper on it, and it was about to be unleashed on the purple youth.

"You could have been killed. How dare you sneak about and spy on people." Oh yes, she was cranky with him, of course his compliment served to startle her out of her rant, and her features reflected the bewilderment.

"I- You.. That may be, but it doesn't excuse-" She cut off abruptly, a flush tinging the dark curve of her cheeks, fingers curling into small fists at her side. Finally, heaving a a heavy, exasperated sort of sigh, she continued. "Thank you, I guess." Her tone wasn't exactly gracious, but she hadn't come after with the sword.

Not that she was half as skilled with using the thing as weapon as then she was with it as a prop. He didn't need to know that though.

The low volume babbling was put to a sudden and complete stop with a single glance from Shin-Mu. She wasn't a tyrant, nor a bully or unfair, but she did have a temper, and it was generally a good idea to remain on her good side. How she'd gained such a level of instant obedience from the servents and attendents she didn't know, but it did come in handy from time to time.

The distraction of the whispers gone, she was free to return her full and undivided attention of the blond young man standing opposite her. She may have accepted his compliment, but that didn't mean she wasn't still annoyed by his intrusion and what happened as a direct result of it.

"That still doesn't take from the fact that you could have been seriously hurt if that sword had left my hand a little slower." She indicated the weapon with a twitch of one slender finger, stepping forward as he did.

Lucky for him she'd lived a very sheltered life. His surname may ring a bell to her, but not his given name, nor the face that went with it. "What's your name?" Did she care? Mildly. It seemed proper to know the name of the young man she nearly maimed.

When he offered the sword she took it, letting it come to rest aganst the pale silks that covers her thighs and knees. "Thank you." a small frown touched her lips, brows pinched in a subtle crease. The hilt felt.. sticky. Had his palms really been that sweaty?

The thought was enough to cause her fingers to jerk open, letting the sword fall to stick into the ground. She did not like sweat, specifically not the sweat of a stranger. The palm of her hand pressed against the side of her thigh before she could stop herself, and she noticed the tinge of crimson that stained the buff brown of the swords hilt.

Blood?She tensed imediately, the skin between her shoulder blades and that of her palms crawling as if it could free itself from her muscles. Pale eyes going so wide the green was almost lost to the white. Slowly, horrified, she with drew her hand from the pale silk of her skirt, seeing first the smear there before turning her palm to stare in absolute blind panic at the tinge of tacky blood on her hand.

This was not good.

She couldn't move, couldn't react for nearly a full minute. Frozen in what could only be described as pure, blind panic. From a logical point of view it made no sense, it was only blood, not even her own, but logic held no reins on psychosis. This was not a problem that could be rationally thought out or worked through. She was lost to disorder, lost to common, sensible reasoning, tipped over the edge and into the abyss of her own, obsessive, compulsive mind.

She didn't see the wave of his hand right in front of her face, didn't hear his voice. Not right away at least. The attendants behind her had started mumbling again. Urgent whispers accompanied by pointing fingers. They knew what happened next, and a few bold faces stood, taking hesitant steps forward.

A scream was bubbling up the young woman's throat, choking her as surely as the panic did. She couldn't get enough air, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest showed the effort of it. She was close to hyperventilating when she finally found her voice again and it split the quiet air like a siren. One long, raged shriek after the other. The stillness that had claimed her broke and she fell, unyielding to her knees, tearing at the pale fabric that wrapped her legs. Ripping the entire skirt away to fling it blindly behind her. Leaving her in enough to keep her modesty(though at that moment she didn't have rationality to care.).

With the soiled fabric clear of her body she was left to fixate of the smear of red along her palm, and level-head was not a term that could be applied her. She scrubbed at the hand with her opposite fist, setting nails into her own flesh to try to rid herself of the impurities. Of course that only made it worst, her own blood soon joining his, smearing over both hands in her futile struggle to clean herself. All the while her voice rose in hysterical babbling and screams, over and over, "it won't come off, it won't come off. I can't get it of! A panicked, broken record.

The attendants hung back, wisely not touching their charge. They knew that caring touch, applied now, would not well. Oh they were worried, it was clear on their faces, and concerned with the state of the young lady's hands, for those were her lively hood, but Shin could be dangerous, especially now. A few had gone to fetch water, but they would have to either let her it out until there was no fight left, or bodily pin her until she tired, and they were currently unsure which was the better plan.

Palms bleeding, crimson steadily spreading the length of her forearms in the vain attempts to rid dark skin of the contaminating filth, his blood and hers. Heavy drops trailed down to collect at her elbows before falling to her now bare thighs and the poor girl fell into uncontrollable shaking. She'd given up on tearing at her palms and they hung suspended out from her body on bent arms, fingers stained, hands heavily painted. Wide, pale eyes seemed blind to anything but them, and the screaming had subsided to incoherent whimpers and ramblings.

Intellectually she knew the majority of the blood was her own, but psychosis didn't work like that, and even as she watched the glittering liquid leaking from a cut in her own palm, her mind screamed at her that it was his, foreign, dirty. Her own blood she could handle, it was her's, it came from her body.

She didn't see him hoovering around her, didn't notice when he took a few steps back. She was blind to his trip, and didn't look up even as he pitched forward towards her. No, it wasn't until his face had collided with her chest that her insensible ramblings ceased abruptly, cut off by the gasp that followed the sudden impact. Pale lashes fluttered as as she blinked, chin dipping so she could look down at the back of the boy's head.

The first trickle of liquid warmth tickling along the curve of one dark breast and into the valley between creased pale brows, features puzzled. "What is that?" Dark smears decorated his cheeks and temples as she hoisted his head from her chest to examine her chest, and the realization of that dark line of fluid along her skin leeched the warmth from her flesh. Another scream was bubbling at the back of her throat, but before it broke the seal of her lips pale eyes snapped up to his, lily green blazing with rage. He'd hurt her, he'd covered her in his filthy blood, he'd seen her body and touched where no other had even been allowed.

Her anger, her fear, her fractured logic and resulting panic had a target now, and he was most certainly in danger.