The audience files into a barely lit tent, smelling of cinnamon and an acrid other, before a raised platform where piles of ash-like rubbish seemed to be scattered. Just as the crowd seemed to become restless that no one was coming, the piles on the stage began to move. Particles, grey and black, swirling like snow, closer and closer, faster and faster, until a shape coalesced from the mass-- a woman.

Priala's form is dusky in the low light, but as she shakes her arms and hair of the ash fallen on it, her flawless figure is revealed. It is easy to see as she throws her arms out wide, nothing mars even a millimeter of her skin. The shadow behind her on the curtain like that of triumphant bird. Her eyes, the color of hot coals, swept over the crowd piercingly before they closed.

The scent of smoldering myrrh filled the tent as suddenly the woman, face alive with ecstasy, burst into flames. Gouts of flame came from her entire body, replacing the image of the flawless woman with that of a black skeleton surrounded in the fiery corona of a triumphant phoenix.





Once the show is over, Priala can be found out to the side of her tent. She's now acquired articles that resemble clothing--a small, very low cut orange and black top with many straps which stray across her shoulders and arms, and a small skirt of matching material--each seeming more a decoration for her skin than an item worn to cover her faultless figure.

Her eyes are molten amber and lips are quirked in a grin, which betray that perhaps she has enjoyed this nights show and is looking for her next delight.