Risque knew she couldn't trust Cobain with the particular assassination she had hired Ivan and his little witch pet to take care of for her. So, she figured she would spend the money and get it done right. Or so she thought. She could not have been any more wrong. Even with that absurd amount of money spent and those lists of demands were hardly met. Her list of her demands were carefully laid out, a particular brand of statement that create a movement and only stretch her hold in Russia. She wanted this particular enemy to be on display. He had thought he could run from her, but there wasn't a single place on this earth that would ever reach far enough from her hold. One way or another she always got exactly what she came for.

She had wanted the man's dying body placed on display, on a spike within the fountain of town square. She wanted that fountain to bleed red with his blood, broadcasted for all the world to see.. She wanted pictures too. Risque wanted nothing more to see it for all its glory it surely deserved. His last moments would be spent bleeding out into a fountain, choking on his own blood with a spike pierced through his core. He was to be strung up naked, with his own used underwear stuffed in his mouth.. She wanted the world to see his last moments in sheer and utter humiliation without the chance to cry out. It was a fitting demise for someone who wronged her, his death made a mockery of as his pictures were plastered all over the internet. What a beautiful message it would paint.. There was no corner on this earth that they could run.

During that drive, the hellish woman was fuming while she absentmindedly toyed with Tetradore's upper thigh, trailing so close to his manhood. She dug those fingers in whilst she drifted off, lost in the anger that rippled within her skin. All that money and they could not meet her demands. Did they think this was acceptable? Not one key ingredient she had asked for was given. It was not like they could do a redo.. The man could only die the true death once.

If she wanted to settle for disappointment, she would have sent one of her own. She thought she would indulge herself in a little treat, watching someone else execute her sinister plans with artful precision. Only, it was like ordering a Kobe strip steak and all she got was a measly dried out chicken wing.

Pissed off did not suffice the severity of how she felt. She was insulted.

She would come down with a god like vengeance and even then when they choked on their own bile and blood she still wouldn't be sated. There were just some things that needed to be done yourself and risqué was forged from the bowls of hell itself. A beautiful, pitiless monster.

She moves like the very felines she controlled, smooth, and graceful, as though to draw ones gaze straight to those sensual hips. The sharp click of her heels against the pavement that seemed to serve as a countdown to that violence she so easily inflicted. She gestured for Tetradore to slide in front of her like a procession before a queen. She allows that power to caress him as though it is an invisible collar and leash that binds him. "I hope you are hungry my pet." She cooed, that sickly sweet poison. Perhaps she could have them eaten alive. That was always a pleasure to watch.

Risque took a moment to take in the warehouse apartment, curiously hidden amongst the industrial building as though it perpetual incognito. How lackluster. She drew in their scents, the witches blood more potent to her, she could practically see the magic that flowed within her. Witches scents were so blatantly obvious it was so terribly assaulting and loud. A look of distaste appears upon the vampire's face, her gaze shifting toward the duo. "I do hope we aren't interrupting anything.." Her voice curls like billowing smoke, filling the room with her suffocating presence. A diminutive sensual curl of her bloodied red lips as she slid beside her Tetradore. Those were merely words, she hardly cared what business the duo were in the middle of. They could have been fucking each other brains out and she would have still walked in with the same demanding demeanor.

"Ivan.." Her voice is like liquid satin on naked flesh. Her eyes dismissively assess the witch briefly. The thought of cracking her open did cross her mind, curious of that silvery witches blood that flowed through her veins, even though such pretty blood tasted like revolting bitter rot. How it paled in comparison to the delectable taste of alpha blood. She was almost enquiring just how easily she would break beneath her hands. After all, that was how she so often viewed others in her world.

Honestly, she would have preferred to break the witch slowly, she did enjoy the pleasure of psychological torture, but that needed time and care and truly she was capable of neither in this very moment. Fortunately, there was more than one way to break someone and she wanted to taste that savory burst of immediate satisfaction.

"I thought you were proficient in international affairs as you assured me." The vampiress spoke her voice sharp like a scalpel blade, easily sliding through skin. How much disappointment lashed within her, festering and growing. Part of her wanted only to end them now for their blatant failure. But perhaps she could drag out their intended slaughter, after all, the night was still terribly young and Tetradore needed.... Exercising. How terribly sheltered the boy had become, she needed to reform that muscle memory.

"I am disappointed. With the amount I paid, I expected so much more from someone of your particular talents." Those very words were like a death sentence from the malicious temptress. Her pale apathetic eyes watching them like they are nothing more than a waste of her precious time.

"Tell me.. What kind of imbecile screws up a task so simply spelled out for them?" How terribly French that word imbecile sounded. The harshness in her voice dared to lash out, that usually sensual voice giving way to the anger that stirred beneath, a grave insult was made and she would stand for it.

Those hypnotic eyes stare at the duo with unforgiving malice, her power running along Tetradore's skin as though she caressed him idly from afar. As though she told him to look alive. The time for violence was soon, the perfect storm of destruction. She would have their heads before the night was through, she could practically taste the carnage in the air and she nearly quivered with the anticipation of it.

Risque

just face the moon and put your death mask on