"Do I assault your modest eyes?" The feline queen questions, her eyes glittered dangerously, void of humour. Risque was the embodiment of sex and terror, the very wet dream of Satan himself. Why would she not dress like she was painted by that very paintbrush of erotic grandeur? She was highly sexual in every movement, her hypnotic bedroom eyes that were meant to entice and lure you in. This little dress was nothing in comparison to when she could have been wearing. She quite comfortable wearing nothing but long blue black hair cascade across her naked body like a luxurious waterfall. "How terribly human of you." That satin voice slips passed her sensual mouth.

Her eyes were as one would expect for a soul crusher, they are pale blue and yet intricate. They glow depending on her various moods, they are ethereal and yet promising. As those eyes could promise you your every desire in one glimpse. She continued, her voice escapes her once more as she toys with him, like a cat with a mouse. "I forgot how innocent you were.." A sensual laugh slips from her mouth, it was so very much like the hot wax of a candle dripped upon the most intimate areas. It would seem he had acquired some of her attributes but was lacking in so many others.

He quips at her and she wishes only wishes to make him suffer. All she does is allow her lips curl into a wicked smile, her fangs exposed like her porcelain thigh. She did not respond to him as she looks him over and he remains ever stoic. How she wishes to shatter that contrived stoicism. She knows she can and has before. The thrumming call of her obedient kitten's ancient and unrelenting bond, there was musical rhythmic and carnal inaudible tune as she calls to them. A siren's song they had no choice but to obey.

He explains how he killed whatever vampires she wanted dead at the time. Who they were, she hardly remembered. "Good...." She paused, looking at him in that way that no one wanted to be looked at, the way that said she was imagining him screaming from pain. "But not great. Don't I deserve excellence?" He was like a disobedient child that only handed in a half-finished homework assignment. It didn't matter what Risque asked for. She wanted more. And like a goddess of her caliber, she expected it.

He complained that she didn't need to call her cats and something within her gave way. The final straw of leniency she could muster for one of her children and even that was wearing thin. "You come to me empty-handed, I will do as I please, child." She hissed, her malevolence suddenly snapped, rearing its head. How dare he ask her anything when he did not produce.

Children.. Her pale multifaceted eyes narrow at the thought. Who would have thought they would be so insolent, so ungrateful for all she had given them. She deserved to be worshiped and showered with undying loyalty. Instead, all she gets are words and excuses.

"You do not even greet me appropriately and you dare to return after all this time empty handed? You fail me." Her voice raises, that sharp sound like one of her silver whips snapping down on supernatural flesh. How dare he. How dare he growl at her, how dare he fail her so.

"Maybe I should feed you to them." Her words seem to ensnare him with an impasse nonchalance. A large tiger was the first to appear at her side, she ran an idle hand through its thick stripped fur. His eyes stare vacantly to Cobain as he waits for his mistress' next command, snarling menacing, exposing its impressive teeth.

"Or maybe I should remind you of the foul mood I get in when I'm disappointed and now my meal grows cold." She cooed, her words are like satin sheets on a naked bodice. But her intent behind them is pure, undiluted evil.

"I think now is the appropriate time for you to grovel." She raised a manicured brow expectantly. There was no room for excuses now, she licks the remaining blood that lingered on the corner of her lips.

Tetradore, Isolt, and now him. Fighting her tooth and nail drenched in disappointing futility. It was a good thing she enjoyed the breaking process and as it would seem Cobain needed a refresher course. Unless he started acting like the progeny she taught him to be.

If only he played his part to her desires, there could have been a still warm meal with his name on it. He could have been a prince amongst her kingdom but he must learn to properly worship his queen. After over a century, it was clearly looking bleak. For him at least.

Risque

just face the moon and put your death mask on