Red locks curl around her face like snakes. Theyâ€"the pairâ€"slink across the park like hunters cooing to bambi. Emerald eyes pierce the black night with anticipation and animosity, "vat is it de vant, I don' geet eet."

It is that voice that is so undeniably foreign that tends to get others. They either get lost in her lullaby tone or drown in misunderstanding. It is so thick that many don't understand her. She speaks traditional. Perhaps she could speak better if she took lessons but Aleksandra has no time for nonsense.

I don't know what you're talking about, the annoyed voice of her familiar rings out into her mind like nails against chalkboard. He does this regularly; speaks without permission. Here she is, speaking to herself as if to comfort herself and in he comes gun blaring offering his own voice. She didn't ask for him. "Sha-tup."

Simple as thatâ€"their relationship has grown to very honest answers.

Truth be told we all want to know the beautiful story of Aleksandra Risben. Where she inherited her beautiful flawless red hair. Why her name was spelt with a "ks" instead of an "x". How she came to meet Oleg. Who raised her so poorly that she became incredibly unreasonable and cruel.

What we do knowâ€"thus farâ€"is she was born in Russia. Her mother was a maid, her father a butcher. She grew in a poor family, with multiple brothers and sisters to which she never cared to learn their names. All except one of courseâ€"Matildaâ€"who is commonly referred to via thought but never shared with vocally. Very rarely will Aleksandra go into detail of the happenings to little Matty; perhaps this is for the best. She was very bad with feelings.

"Vell, vat is dis?" She asks, her lip curling into a slight smirk but Oleg merely rolls his eyes in disinterest. There are three things you keep hidden from Ms. Risben: Alcohol, children, and sexy men with stubble. Oleg has learnt over the years to stroll out of reach when she reaches any of the above. Alcohol leads to her search in Stubbly sexy men and if she finds kaput, then... any man counts. Children lead to her disdain and anger to which Oleg deals with for about a day later (in this case, not even Aleksandra wins). And finally, sexy men with stubble leads to well... the walk of shame and a bar later that night to which there is just an ongoing repeat button. It took a year to get Aleksandra far enough away from all three that they could lead semi-average lives together and not deal with awkward emotions.

Though, the neon coloured sign beaming "highballs 4.00$" sort of defeats the whole progress thing.

"I be bahk, my vittle Ol-ag" her expression shows she is far past gone and Oleg shrugs before sinking into the shadows. It is best to not get aggravated over the inevitable; perhaps this time, some man will actually keep her. He scoffs because it isn't about the men wanting the woman, but about Aleksandra finding interest in the man.

The bar is hot and steamy. Indie pop music blares from speaks that seem to hang from walls and at first Lecky considers leaving. It isn't every day that she turns away a glass of whiskey on the rocks but perhaps this distasteful sense in music is enough. She feels that way until a beautiful display of Vodkas, Gins, Rums, and Whiskeys catches her eye and it is like a sideways pull of gravity lures her into their reach. "I vant viz-keh," her accent is thick, even more so now that her attention isn't so narrowed in on sounding somewhat understandable. "On zee rah-ks."

The bartenderâ€"despite his busynessâ€"has no issues catering to her ravishing glow. Her eyes sparkle as he flops the glass onto the counter. Her eyelashes batter as he cups a hand of ice elegantly in his lap. Her lips are (inevitably) bitten as he pours her the finest whiskey in the bar. And lastly, the ten dollar tip for an eight dollar drink doesn't send him off running either. She certainly has a taste for a man good with alcohol.

Aleksandra Risben

Witch- Familiar Jaguar named Oleg - -