Species: Human (body-possessed)

Habitat: Rehearsal floors, nightclubs, abandoned spaces, anywhere with rhythm

Disposition: Fluid, fierce, disciplined

Dancers speak in motion, not words. Every gesture is a spell, every step a mark in time. Their bodies are instruments; tuned, tested, sometimes broken, always burning. Where others walk, dancers glide, strike, collapse, and rise again, chasing the perfect moment when movement becomes meaning.

They are creatures of muscle and memory, haunted by choreography and instinct alike. Many train until their bones scream and still return the next day, because dance is not what they do; it’s what they are.

To watch a dancer is to witness devotion. To be one is to surrender to rhythm so fully that the self dissolves.

They do not flee the fire. They become it.

Effects: a belief that you can also do what they do, (sometimes true).