When she's done and knows her feet are ready, she goes to a music box in the corner. She lifts the lid, selects the tune she wants, and then stands in the middle of the large space between her bed and the mirrors in second position. As the music starts, she begins to dance.

The movements are long, elegant, her feet up en pointe most of the time. She can't manage the huge leaps in the confined space, but she does do some of the smaller ones. It's an improvised piece, utilizing every space on the floor, her eyes open, hair loose, her arms gracefully moving with the music and her feet.

It shows in each movement of feet, arms, and body how much she loves dancing, how much time she's devoted to it over millennia of time. It is her passion, something that madness and time and power has never stripped from her.