Kinshara is a musician.
Kinshara is a actor.
Kinshara is a artist.
Their fingers strum and play and move and their feet tap tap tap and their eyes flicker and their voice hums and screams and sings and-
Their face is never the same. Once it's Beethoven, the next day it'll be Mozart and then it will be more musicians, more masks and smiles and voices and hands and-
But their eyes they cannot change. Their eyes will always remain cold and empty even when their lips are smiling and their voice is warm and they'll be dark, darker than the night they promise to love and darker than the walls and floors that make out their world.
There are golden strings attached to them. To their arms and legs and throat and fingers and everytime they move they will make a sound and it will echo and scream and vibrate through their world until it'll wake the white creature in the abyss and then it'll be screams of another sort that will echo and vibrate and crack the walls and-
'They should feel honoured' they screech 'honoured to die by my hand, honoured to die by my music, honoured to die by HEARING ME'
And the mask will crack the walls will crack the floor will crack and the darkness oozes and claws and drags and the white creature will laugh and cackle and scream in delight and-
It'll be as if nothing happened. The walls are black the floor is black their mask is flawless and their smile is gentle and their voice is warm and their hands play while their feet tap tap tap away.
Kinshara is a musician.
Kinshara is a actor.
Kinshara is a artist.
And Kinshara is a darkness wrapped in gold and hidden right under the surface waiting for someone to notice to scream to do something-