you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared

The usual fiery assassin stands, head bowed, a trickle of blood running down her chin. Though she wants to reach a calloused hand up to wipe it away she knew she had pushed Ivan too far. Considering she had only spat at his feet moments ago; Ivan regards her with nothing short of cruel amusement, thoroughly enjoying his docile prodigy. Hands folded neatly behind his back, he reaches out his long fingers grasping her chin roughly, forcing her gaze to meet his. She fights the urge to flinch from his dead eyes and she succeeds only to wince at his bruising grip on her chin. She aches to peel his fingers away, instead she finally meets his gaze, eyes wide with nothing short of terror, "Who gives the orders, Vhalla?" he drawls out, his voice cool; quiet. When she doesn't answer, his grip tightens until a whimper escapes her lips.

"You do," she gasps out just as he releases her, hands folding behind his back once again as he sidesteps around the assassin, circling her as if she were nothing more than prey. She stands, stiffly, eyes on the ground her own hands fisted at her side, "That's correct. And when I give you a target, I expect you to finish them, not to return to me demanding answers," he purrs, his fingers toying with the tip of her braid, as he stops behind her, his cool breath brushing her neck, "Do not disobey me again," his voice takes on a feral hiss as his hand tightens on her braid, Vhalla cringing away from him. Still, the assassin braves a glance over her shoulder, a look of defiance storming in her eyes, "You were going to make me kill him," she says quietly, though not without that rage. Ivan merely shrugs at her, a knowing smile thinning his lips.

"Do you remember the last time you disobeyed me?" he asks delightedly, his hand now removing that tie that holds her hair in place, his fingers combing through her ivory locks until they fall in a loose wave, tumbling down to her waist. Vhalla doesn't answer, not out of defiance, not this time. That memory races through her mind, she could almost feel the fiery burn of the whip lashing at her back, that sound so haunted her dreams still, and it's only when that memory burns brightly in her mind do her shoulders slump, that moment of insolence towards her master, vanishing. Her hands, slack, at her side as her icy eyes are fixed on the ground, the feel of his fingers running through her hair nothing short of a distant sensation.

Reaching up, he tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear, leaning in until his lips are but inches from her neck, "You smell delightful," he purrs, planting a light kiss on her neck as Vhalla simply does not react, her mind still lost in her memories, "Unfortunately, we have a guest," he sighs, straightening. He removes his hands to clasp them behind his back, taking a step around Vhalla, a faint smile tugging on his features. "Ah, I see the King of the West has decided to grace us with his presence. Come along, I see you prowling through the shadows," he beckons with a hand as Tetradore enters the room. It's with the mention of the were-King that has Vhalla snapping back to the present, watching as that black panther stalks into the room. A look of pure horror coats her features momentarily before she shuts that wall down over her emotions.

Silently, she begs for him to leave.

"Naughty, Vhalla, he followed you all the way here and you did not even notice. How delightful!" he claps his hands together his features brightening, "You will have to be punished, my pet," he grins, flashing those fangs, though he doesn't deign to look at his assassin. Vhalla simply shifts her weight from foot to foot anxiously, her eyes darting to the obnoxious white bandage wrapped around his paw. How it managed to stay during his shift was beyond her, though the thought is suddenly chased away by the situation she had found herself in. The assassin kicked herself for not checking to see if anyone had followed her, it would be her fault if Tetradore ended up dead by the end of the night; or perhaps Ivan would finally end her miserable existence. Reaching up, she brushes at the blood on her face, still smeared, but drying onto her skin, eyeing Tet with pleading eyes. He needed to leave but she couldn't very well say that to him.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he gives a mocking bow, his eyes alight with cruelty, "Did you come to save your assassin? Or were you merely curious as to who wanted you dead? I expect, now that you know, you will be on your way," he states to the panther casually, seeing that Tetradore made no moves to leave, Ivan gives a shrug, "Perhaps you will stay and enjoy the show. My dear, Vhalla does need to be punished, you may watch if you would like," he flashes that cruel, amused smile again before taking a step backwards to Vhalla, reaching up a hand to brush the back of his hand against her unbloodied cheek, very much enjoying that flinch that racks Vhalla's entire body. As she takes a step away from him, Ivan, far too quick for the assassin's eyes to follow, backhands her across the face, sending the witch staggering and falling to her knees before she can catch herself, a whimper of pain so escaping those lips of hers.

Vhalla Solarn

To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered