Rhyne

One of the twelve creatures participating in Emperor Yu's search for the perfect assistant, Snake was a close companion of Dragon. Reticent and restrained, Snake could be stealthy and vicious when she needed to be, but watching her basking lazily in the sun gave a distinctly different impression. She often listened calmly and patiently as Dragon waxed lyrical about her many deeds; while she wasn't nearly as interested in the competition as her friend, there was no doubt they were excellent qualities to have. When she arrived in the human world, Snake bided her time, watching the world go by. The living pulse of this city thrummed under its concrete skin, and as her glowing eyes beheld the fall of night, she found her curiosity too strong to ignore. The city was alive—not in the droll humdrum of grey traffic, but in the kaleidoscopic mosaic of clubs, bars, and dancefloors. Though she stayed close to unassuming corners and the shadows of doorways, Snake adapted to the atmosphere well enough; her sleek scales were replicated in the luminescent print of her clothes. One night, Snake found herself slipping down several neon-lit alleyways. A bout of quiet applause drew her to an open space, where a group of dancers were practicing their moves. The youngsters were emulating the sinuous twists and turns of her kind, taking turns to dance a mock fight with glowing rods that left burning trails in the indigo night. With a lazy, knowing smile, Snake slithered into the fray—a strange, slinky woman they would come to remember as the dominator of the dance floor: Rhyne. Among the twelve creature candidates sent down from the celestial heavens to partake in Emperor Yu's competition, calm and patient Snake considered herself the most efficient. Her every movement was sleek, precise, and carefully calculated—not a beat out of time. Snake seemed almost indolent if one didn't know about the viciousness she could strike with. So when she hit the dance floor in that neon-touched city as the dancer Rhyne, there was definitely something different about what she brought to the fray. The glowing rods were modified neon lights, elongated to the length of a baton. Connecting the rods was a nylon tether, giving the overall prop the look and feel of a pair of futuristic nunchucks. As the music began to dip into a thumping trance, Rhyne surged upward with the liquid grace of the serpent within her. The distant signboards melted together into a whirl of blurred color, mimicking twilight and the still-beating heart under the city's concrete carapace. Modern man shunned overt violence as criminal, but aggression and attitude could still be expressed in dance—and in that regard, they were no different from their ancestors. Behind the facade of social acceptance and courtesy lay a wild desire to be seen and heard, and duality of such an existence was intoxicating. Gone were the days where survival was measured in blood and sweat; now they were in black hearts and crocodile smiles. In some ways, the city was far more dangerous than any snarling predator. Her old friend Dragon would have certainly been amused at her enthusiasm, rare as it is. But for now, there was only the beat—the beat of life.