SCREAM baby, SCREAM;

Risque was dead to him in a way, at least for a time. At least so he thought. But was she really? After all, she was a needle and thread weaving through his mind, puncturing and becoming one with the fabric of him. She moulded him since he was nothing but a youthful and inexperienced child, no matter how much she hated him, he was her at least more than he realised. He was the finest masterpiece she had crafted and she would never truly let him go. After all, why would she invest all that time in an investment with no return? Surely those hooks that bit into the very meaty bits of his soul didn't dare leave? At least not truly.

Her sadistic laughter fills every crevice of the place the very facets of it seemed to echo in a place where it shouldn't have, as though it could pierce every last creature within her establishment. Oh, that look of shock upon his features was all too adorable for words, he was like that child she had scooped up at such an impressionable age. There was a glimpse of his defeat that she could practically feel crack and fall like lifeless rose petals as he uttered those very words. Surely he wasn't so innocent to think she was that easy of a kill. Surely her children had mommy issues. In a way she was their mother figure, she did awaken their darker side, awaken them to a whole new kind of hell. "Do you think I could be defeated so easily, surely you aren't that naive? I let you see what you needed to break away and become what you are at this very moment in time." That dark luxuriously vile voice fills in those gaps that he failed to see. There was a bigger picture her, couldn't he see? Tetradore needed to think he was free to live, he needed to believe that her clutches within him were obliterated with her death. It was a performance that would win her an Oscar, those illusions she once possessed gave her exactly what she needed to make that happened. He needed to feel safe, to feel like he could start anew and that he could bring people into his orbit. Luckily for her, he was so eager to believe she was dead that he didn't think to question that very important twist in this story, that what if.

Finally, her words painted a vile and sinful painting, as though the very paint was forged from the blood of past victims and possible future ones. After all, there was always a wake of bodies wherever she went. She allowed a moment of perfect stillness for everything to come into focus, a revolting reality that unhinged everything he had worked hard for. Yet Risque had known all of this all along, she had allowed him freedom and he squandered it. Now she was here to collect what was hers, that man that had always been hers. She wanted her water to become wine. Everything was a diabolical plan carefully constructed within her wicked and cunning mind, even to the point of knowing he would one day get himself killed and return to this earth like a phoenix from the ashes. After all, who had given him the means to do such a thing? It was Risque, it was always her in some warped way, it always leads back to her. He may have removed his collar but he was never truly free, even though she gave him the illusion of it. The very leather that tied him to her was truly gone, but there was still a collar around his neck only it was in the shape of a necklace.

He moved with such reluctance, but he shuffles toward her like an obedient zombie even though every ounce of him probably wanted to flee. But there was truly no escape from this depraved temptress. She didn't even need to use her sway to bring him to her, he knew it was futile to deny her. She could practically taste that sickly sour taste of his adrenaline coursing within his body and she finds it so very intoxicating, an exquisite blend of fear, shock and trauma. Ignoring his snort when she said she missed him, she merely blinks languidly.

"Tsk tsk tsk, mon chat. Here I thought you would be happy to see me." She clicked her tongue as though disappointed, but she was far from it. She practically gloated knowing her panther was right back to where he belonged at her side. He was more than a mere slave; he's her masterpiece that she handcrafted into a talented callous and lethal creature. He would always have his uses.

"It's not just what I want.. You have a debt to repay. A life for a life. Only if you were not so reckless with your existence and didn't die so quickly you wouldn't be here at this very moment." She hums in sick satisfaction, tilting her head in a broken way before a slow moving smile finds her lips. "Now you are mine." There was nowhere to hide now. "You should treat me with more respect my cat. The more you struggle the more painful I will make it for you and everyone else around you. Do you need a reminder how insolence is rewarded?" She slinks toward him, slipping passed the female panther that lured him here. Even that mere movement possessed the grace of the felid's she is connected to. She slides around him, as though allowing her scent to once again find his flesh and investigating what time had done to her. Those piercing hypnotic pale blue eyes devour him in that that insatiable predatory way. She curled her finger like a hook, trailing it upon his collar bone, finding the amulet she bestowed him untucking it from his shirt so it sits out in the open upon his chest.

"I see you still wear my gift." It pleased her. "Are you still unaware of the power you possess?" Silly little kitty probably had no clue, of any of it.