Out go the lights and bump goes the night
And with your fear comes my delight
How swiftly Risque reaches the furthest side of the room only to appear behind the warlock, ominously hovering so close that she could simply grab him and he would be none the wiser, but Risque had another idea on her mind. He is hasty for a warlock as he snaps around to face her taunting voice just behind him, in turn falling right into her trap. It was all to clear that she was setting him up for the fall as her words effortless assault him. She is picking at him with her words like a vulture picks at a carcass.
Darcy was already eager and ready before she issued that meagre command, perhaps even a little trigger happy considering those emotions that assault him. He would probably be content to know that very fate might as well have been the final nail plunged into the warlock's coffin. In an instant the other vampire is there, not even missing a breath within that fluid execution. Fear, so much potent fear radiates from that anxious warlock as he was so suddenly jerked backward within a sharp but skilled, forceful movement. It was nothing short of amusing to hear while hearing that loud, bleating squeal. Foolish man, to show up here and treat the very woman that employed him like a fool. People have died by her hand for far less and the very thought causes her eyes to narrow within the grasp of irritation. An internal Cheshire grin spreading wide within that inner predator in that very moment, toyed only by the scent of prey toying with her own resolve. It would have been too easy to rip out the man's vulnerable neck, but where would the fun be in that. Yet she waits, biding her time, artfully setting up the stage like she was a part of some grand theatrical performance and everyone needed to play their part just right. Only if all were to go to plan.
It amused her how that fabric dug into the flesh of his neck, daring to cut off that vital breath in an instant so it was reduced to nothing but ragged squeaky gasps. But it is when her gaze settled upon Darcy as he is all but engrossed with the man in his grasp, which never bode well. Scenting out that very vein with a singular, tracing inhale with a near sick glee. He was like a dog with his favorite squeaky toy, biding time until Risque revealed her next hand. It was impossible not to notice that tempting vein of the sorcerer's pulse jumping and pounding from his neck as though it danced only for the two vampire's entertainment.
How easy it would be to just tear his throat out, to get lost in a sea of blood and slick bodies coated in that magical lifeblood. How long had it been since she tasted witch blood? Certainly, too long, but it was an acquired taste, this much was sure.
Darcy practically torments the poor man who has no choice but to be reduced to nothing but ragdoll within his grasp, claiming he only wanted a taste. Risque watched with a vague interest upon her features as he licked that very neck, trailing along that thick, juicy vein. She couldn't imagine he tasted all that good with that salty sweat coating his body, beads running down his face while he screamed such a god damn irritating scream that grates on her very last resolve! The real taste lay beneath that skin, not the filth upon it. She would not lick that warlock if her life depended on it. "Just a taste?" She questions, those pale fathomless depths of her eyes flutter toward Darcy with certain expectancy. She was content the screams had stopped for now at least. Normally she was quite fond of the sound, but this man was clearly everything she despised, and he would suffer dearly for that mistake, even if it was hardly his fault. "Why have a taste of filth when you can have so much... more?" She spoke with that deadly insinuating saccharine tone, tasting that word 'more' like she craved it.
Those screams, thankfully died as Darcy lifted the warlock off his feet in a rather abrupt manner by the scruff of his shirt, like a worm on a hook flailing about madly. He was decidedly much more pleasant this way, helpless and writhing in those relentless clutches. His lips parting like a fish out of water while his eyes bulged in a nearly grotesque way as if they threaten to pop from his reluctant sockets, he dared to assault her eyes too! She could barely stand to look at him. She pivots away, moving like liquid as she glides across the office to snatch the money Darcy had brought her. He was lifting him and dropping him in a strangely amused way, watching the comical way the warlock squirmed. A frown playing across Risque's face. "What are you doing to that little man?" She chides in that entirely nonchalant fashion. "I said apprehend him, not strangle him to death." He better not accidentally kill him prematurely. She nearly sighs, wondering if this plan was all for naught.
Darcy noted how eager the two cubs were, paws right at the very edge of their desk, practically stitched together standing side by side, leaning forward with a certain kind of hungry expectancy. Her head turning, the long blue-black cascade of her hair caressing her bare back as she did so. Their long fluffy tails were twitching to and fros as if swaying in tune to some unheard eerie melody. Perhaps even they could appreciate that thick scent of fear that wafts from the warlock whose name clearly escaped her now. Although, did the names of her victims ever really matter to her? Some perhaps more than others, but this one would surely get lost like the countless others she hadn't bothered to learn.
Those two adorably eager leopard cubs could have been twins, their expressions almost identically mirroring one another entirely engrossed and curious. "Mmm. It would appear they are hungry. They want some..." That smooth satin voice holding the disturbing expectancy of her own warped contemplation, that calculating mind already busy at work formulating a strategy. Dismantling people had come so very easily to her, watching them falter before her feet, to bow their once proud heads a final time. This weak-willed warlock hardly stood a chance and he would most likely be broken in mere moments. It was a pity as she so desperately enjoyed a challenge.
She looked up in the air in an almost hopeless fashion. With those bills wrapped tightly in her hand as she approached the duo head on, her very movements sinuous even until she draws forward, extending her neck looking the warlock dead in the eye. "So scared and yet we haven't even done anything to you yet." She shook her head, what an utterly disappointing waste of space he was. Surely the world would not miss this mess. "You really should have learned to be more useful in your pathetic life." She hummed in her own satisfied splendor before her hand grabs the tiny warlocks jaw tightly with enough force to bruise, not digging the silver talon upon her finger just yet. She shook his head a little, enjoying in the silly way his face distorted. "D-d-don't do this." He stuttered.. "Or I will..I will...." His jaw hung helplessly open, dropping he hand to quickly shove a bill into his mouth, then another and another. He attempted to spit some sort of spell, but his words are all but muttered. "Shut up and no biting." She warned as she felt the hint of teeth on her pale hand. A slow sensual smile blooming on her ruby lips as she packed another bill into his mouth, it was a wonder how much money could fit into his annoying little mouth. She could not have him uttering spells and curses at them, no that was not part of her plan.
How rude it was to try and speak when she was in the middle of paying him. He tried to bite at her fingers and her lip curls into a slight but dainty soundless snarl, his teeth sinking into the protruding money. Using that silver razor tipped taloned finger to slice a hungry line across his cheek. Almost too fast for his own eyes to comprehend, it took hardly any time for that witches blood to fill air, so much better than his vile body odor. "I said no... biting." She growled at that warlock, it took every ounce not to just let that feeding frenzy begin, right now. As tempting as it was, Risque had plans. Once she was satisfied with her part, she takes a step back, eyeing her handy work and letting her callused gaze to meet the mismatched eyes of Darcy.
"It has been some time since I've seen you work and I should really like to watch. Not too quickly.. I don't want it to be over before it even starts. She sighed as if bored raising an idle hand as if looking for inspiration. She parts her crimson lips purposely exposing those fangs before letting them sink into the tender flesh of her bottom lip, piercing her own skin. She lingers there, reveling in the pain of that prick as blood wells to the surface, staining her lips with her own glorious dark crimson. It doesn't take much time before it spills into a thin, slow-moving drippy line down her mouth and then her chin, uncaring for the mess in that very moment, her intentions at the forefront of her very mind.
This was clearly not the compensation the warlock had been expecting, his eyes growing desperately wide, his mouth gaping open like pig with an apple placed between his teeth. His face bloomed into a vibrant purple-red hue from that suffocating hold of Darcy's relentless grip. She slides around them, the scent of her own blood wafting about the room like a trail of perfume. A simple taste of a tease exclusively for her loyal vampire to trigger something dark and sinister within him. But there was a sound in the room, a steady racing but rhythmic drum of that frightened skittering heartbeat that flooded her ears like a soundtrack. She allows her fingers to lazily trail over Darcy's leather-clad side, dragging those fingers as she purposefully moves around him, her voice like suffocating smoke flooding the entire room. She draws her head close to Darcy's own, allowing the front of her body to brush against him in that subtle tease to his back. "Show me that brutality that I adore." She uttered, before allowing her blood to smear against the back of his alabaster-hued neck, branding him with her blood in what seems like an intimate kiss, but it is so much more than that.
So suddenly she retreats, only to join her curious cubs so she could enjoy the view. An eagerness possesses her, prepared to enjoy the brutal show that was sure to come. Idly, she places those bills with the other stack before turning her chair, so she could sit within the embrace of her throne, sinking so slowly into the supple, inviting leather in a liquid, elegant fashion, forever the queen of her own hellish kingdom. She crosses a slender leg over the other, leaning back with that taloned finger toying with the ample armrest of that ornate chair. She looks very much like a like a regal painting surrounded by her eager felines who watch with the same hungry eyes of their mistress. Idly, her tongue trails along her bloody lip, savoring the taste of her own, ready to enjoy that show, front row, and center.
Surely her newfound cubs would like to have their first taste of mauled warlock, she could practically feel their hunger along with the ravenous melanistic panther that hid within the concealing shadows underneath her mahogany desk. "Soon.." She purrs a wicked promise to her felines.. soon they could feast. But for now, it was her own distinct pleasure in which she was focused on.
just face the moon and put your death mask on