Graceful Bloodlust

The dancefloor is where you'll find her; spinning around in a fringe of skirts and smiles, she'll clasp onto her partner as though for her life before breaking loose and taking off on her own. No matter the part she plays, or whoever else accompanies her performances, she'll always be the one to draw the eyes of the entire crowd, a showstopper in any venue. From her lithe form to her flashy attire, she's viewed as perfection in human form - an ethereal quality hangs about her, as some say, and yet others liken her to an angel.
But that couldn't be further from the truth. If you were to look deep into the hazel-blue eyes of this dancer, you wouldn't be able to see anything but the truth.

The darkness is where she comes alive, even more so than in the heat of stage lights. A flirty smile as she beckons her prey forward - and then the flash of a knife ends it all before it could even start. In the underworld, she's known as a vixen, the worst kind of deceptress; Cupid, as they call her, has yet to fail a single job she's been offered. From politicians to sleazy gang leaders, she lures them all in, disarms them with a pretty smile - and before they know it, it's all over.
The best of the best, as they say. To this day, no one has found a successful way to catch her unawares, to deter her enough from her target that she falters and fails.

Her knifework is like her footwork, in a way. Swift and airy, it's impossible to pin her down, to catch her in just one moment where her vibrancy isn't blindingly overwhelming. Like a puff of smoke, she disappears before she can even be found, taking her victims down with her. She dazzles all who come across her with a series of smiles and flirty glances, though nothing ever comes of it for anyone but herself.
The reality of it is that she's afraid of failure, scared of what could happen if she were to let just one of her victims go unscathed. It's something she can't fathom, can't handle - and since she can't escape this kind of life, she persists. In a way, she's come to embrace what she can't change; the blood that streaks her hands scars even her dreams, coloring them in the dark shades of nightmares. It's a hell she can't escape, even in the solitude of her own mind.

And so she continues, doesn't even search for a way out. If she were to find one, she would only fear the consequences of such a dissention. After all, for a killer like herself, one who hides behind a smile on the stage, breaking away from her own version of normalcy could be fatal. Though the only person she has to protect is herself, it's enough of a deterrent. If death is what they want, then she'll give it to them.
Sometimes, habits that are so deeply engrained are difficult to break - and Ioanna Valentina is no exception.