What feels like respite courses through the illusionist then as he releases that digging grip, and what a strange feeling to have. Confusion seems to swirl about her like a building storm, she had killed men for less and yet for the first time in who knew how long, she felt... the first spike of fear within her unbeating heart. His muscular arms fold across his chest like armour, fleshy armour that she could have easily pried away from him and yet all her could do was surround himself with potent misdirected anger. How peculiar and how she considers this. Perhaps that was the normal response to an encounter like this.. Regardless she took note of it, studying him carefully with those unique piercing teal eyes of hers. How aware she was of every single move of his, in particular, the sound of a rhythmic heart beat pounding away in his mortal chest. He spat those words out like they scalded him, that sarcasm stark like black on white. Did it matter? Did anything truly matter that much? "Perhaps.. yes.. perhaps no. I haven't decided." She replies, dipping her head to look away, giving an reply and yet not giving him anything truly tangible at the same time. Careful as ever to not reveal too much.

It was his abrasive barking laughter that strikes her first, what a brutal sound it was, aggressive and resilient. It nearly startles her, but she remains entirely deathly still as he casts those harsh names like wicked stones. That frown dancing upon her feminine features, it shouldn't have bothered her, but it did. She was a woman hardly bothered at all and yet a few little names and she is displeased! After all, she was a bloodsucker, a leach and all those various callings she had been called in the past. Including, so many more colourful terms she hardly remembered now. At least he had yet to call her a whore. How that term made her skin crawl, she was sure she would have attacked him then, sending him choking him in his own blood, unable to ignore that one word that would have sent her tipping sideways.

Yet he claims he doesn't fear her and a languid smile spreads across her bone-white teeth, exposing the fangs that were usually concealed behind those lush lips. How his heart gave him up at that declaration. He lied! Right through his perfect teeth! "Oh, really?" How she was about to call him out on it but he was back at casting his sharpened, heavy stones. "I am not saying you are wrong.. and perhaps I was this way. But I am trying to be different, something else. I think." Those delicate words sinuously leave her lips then, forged with that unique diluted Russian accent. She does not argue when he claims she cares only for herself. He wasn't exactly wrong was he? She sighed.. This human was turning out not to be fun at all. His gaze shifts to the body that she was quick to conceal with her powers, maybe it was this body that had tormented him so. Why though she hardly understood, perhaps it had to do with that guilt she felt over accidentally killing him? Maybe he too, felt bad?

How quick he was to determine what she was, this pretty human with all his rage... he was smart. She had to give him that. She could feel her illusions at her fingertips, how eager and ready she was to summon something for him to ease his troubled nerves. Surely that could have helped. But his response is far from impressed. "Nothing?" she inquires again near incredulously, her eerie nightingale voice reaching for him them. "We all want something.." Always. Perhaps she only wanted that purpose again. To know who she was again, beyond the broken shambles of what she was.

It was the harsh strike of his nearly venomous words that causes those teal eyes to grow callused, he does no know who he toys with. She does not answer, at least not yet, she hardly liked that creeping sensation that starts to take hold just as much as she hates how his judgmental eyes bore holes into her skin. "I told you.." She snaps, even though that guilt still stares her down. " I didn't mean to kill him.. he died from the pleasure of my bite. It was too much for him." She stalks closer to him like she might want to bite him next, his blood certainly did seem appealing and she hadn't quite filled herself with that man. She had lost her appetite from that guilt of accidentally killing him.

"As for what's wrong with me.. I find that a difficult question to answer. All I know is I have been changed... I have spent so much time.. not feeling anything and now.." She was slipping.. slipping almost into madness. Because that's what emotions were, madness. "All I can do is feel.. it just doesn't stop. Like standing under a crushing waterfall, it doesn't stop. It all makes no sense.. except for your fear, I understand that.." Her voice is nearly wistful then. She is so close now, she could practically taste his pulse on her tongue, feel the warmth radiating from his body. How that hatred within him seems to grow, how appealing she finds it. She barely hears him as he snarls at her.

However, it was the use of that word fuck that pulls her out of her vortex of a mind, what a curious abrasive word to be so fond of. How he frets about those hunters and if he could just let her take care of it or perhaps, help her instead of berating her they could send them along their merry way without bloodshed. That ashen-haired woman was hardly sure because he hardly allows it when she poked him firmly upon his muscular chest. A snarl escapes her suddenly as she is suddenly yanked from the ground, suspended within the air along with the rest of the furniture and magazines and whatever was within that vicinity. She begins to float away and she tries to struggle against it, against him.

She looked like she was swimming, her arms trying to wade through the air to move but she is simply not in control. He swatted her away like this took no effort at all. Anger... as potent as his wells from her then. "STOP." She commanded, surprise leaving her wide-eyed. Her illusions flickering from existence, as though they threatened to vanish while that shock gripped her so resolutely. How she hated this feeling, hated being weightless with no feet on the ground, simply unable to do much of anything.

"You are scared of me... and I suppose you should be." She suddenly produces another illusion of herself, maybe three appearing behind him. Perhaps one of her favourite things to do. "I can be everywhere and nowhere all at once.." The illusionist allows her illusion to caress him so he could feel just how real they felt. "They are as real as me... too." How she might be here, but she could still reach him.

"Do not pretend that I can't blink you from existence, even here. You want your precious space. So be it." She reluctantly concedes, wanting to test him, test his resolve, his powers. How she almost sends him into space itself, perpetually spinning and falling.. but she does not. She already felt bad enough.

He suddenly releases her from that hold, along with everything else. But it was a good thing her reflexes are exceptional. She lands upon her feet, crouching remaining there for a moment. "You are lucky that I care if you live or die warlock." She muttered before going into detail of what she wanted.

"Create a diversion.. an accident, something outside that seems... more interesting than me. If you can remove that amulet from his neck, I can do the rest." she paused, standing stall, poised, expectant.

"Can you handle that?"

petra ambrose