Risque moved without any notice toward the edge of that rooftop, to peer out at her sea of cats that looked fluid-like, an impressive variety of mismatched fur blending together to make a unique mosaic. For her. Their bowing forms showing just how much control she possessed over that mass of potential lethal soldiers to their army. The sheer numbers of them would count for something to sway the odds. For now, those felines were like abstract artwork, alive and moving now into that perfect circle, as if following the very pattern of her singular fingertip upon that black iron railing. No picture could do this justice, she was sure of it, nothing could capture that same poignant potency. Felines, big and small fit like Tetris pieces, silently filling in every free void that they could. A unit of razor mauling talons and brutal teeth, that would have no choice but to give their life for her. The weres would be the most useful in this battle. They could have useful powers, or not, regardless, they were stronger than any average cat, smarter. Through that power she could sift through them, spot the strongest silently committing them to memory, another slave to meet her goals.

The she-devil's attention was all on them in that moment, feeling rejuvenated, drawn strength from the mere usage of that symphony of power. It almost felt like a beating heart within her chest, she swore she could feel its warmth bloom from within her and spread, flooding within chasms in-between. How reluctant she was to release them from that very hold, her body coiled and wanting. Her fingers tighten around that railing before her. Part of her wanted to join them to walk amongst them amassed for her pleasure, to feel that worshiping fur against her greedy flesh. But Darcy had once again ensnared her attention but her concentration upon her felines is like second nature, that connection almost making her more feline-esque within her gaze.

The body of her lover's was nothing short of distracting, his hands adoringly pressing her waist. One of those hands, move that spilling hair to the side to press his lips against her flesh of her neck in a trail of revering kisses. She wondered if he could feel that thrum of power that thrums within her, could feel it like something ancient and relentless as though it didn't dare tire. As though sunrise would be her only hinderance in her way. That sun chasing them back to the shadows like the nocturnal heathens they were, a reminder they were not gods at all. Not that she would believe it.

For now, she simply welcomes that ardent worship, even though that mood hung precariously in the balance. How quick she could have snapped around, ready to attack him just as she was ready to ensnare his mouth against her own. His words pressed against her flesh and it nearly prompts a seductive purr beneath that very breath. She was a goddess, she knew it, in that very moment she felt that very power like she was one. Just like she could smite down every one of them with a mere thought. How careful Darcy was to not let a singular fang to snag across the slope of her delicate flesh, as if he were to do so would have challenged this fragile tranquil peace. how entirely smart of him not to risk such a thing now. Especially in the throws that currently ensnare her, that praise only serving to feed that very ego, solidified with every press of his lips. He was right, every word of it and with it appealing to her favour. How quickly he had turned around his own doomed fate.

Those fingertips began to dig into her hips, through the smooth fabric, that minute action alone a gamble in its own right. She almost allowed those tendrils of desire grip her, that smooth breath of a sigh nearly exhaling from her now parted lips. Even, for the briefest of moments she presses into the strong body behind her as if to see if she could destroy his methodical purpose. An idle hand returned to allow a rogue finger to toy upon the only flesh available to her, that hand at her waist, as though she nearly considered ensnaring his hand. "You have always been able to see what others are too blind to see. It is why you rise and others remain in the ruinous cesspools beneath us." Her lightly accented voice is velvety smooth, giving no indication to that slight shift within her, except for the yearning he seemed to coax to that surface with a deftness. Her eyes nearly flutter shut and that sound of want near escaping her.

Yet as unpredictable as ever she could feel her fangs expose as her lips peel back oh so slightly as though that snapping urge to dominate him began to rise its ugly head once more. It was impossible to tell what had set it off, if it was the way his fingers tightened or the position alone, or perhaps something far more intangible than that. Some subtle shift in that growing tension between them. It was just a prickle, a phantom shudder against her skin, at first. It was impossible to know if she was going to lash out at him, or initiate more. It was always so difficult to tell, that violence stemming from passion was just as lethal as it was drawing from her inner hate. Prying his form away immediately saw to her demeanor alter its course, all these shifts are so ever subtle and prone to exploding into that chaos she wield. She had shifted away from that railing for a moment, her posture poised like a predator on the attack. As that roar of engines flooded the parking lot. How that attention seemed to be snared once more, without much time to focus on what could happen if those moods were given that time to fester. Those powers she had seen in action before, but she wanted to see what he could do when set out to impress her. The roar of the engine floods her ears from those man-made machines and perhaps she took it as a challenge.

"Sing.." She whispers, her voice nothing but a slithering command issued into that night and before she knew it those felines roared to life, she could hardly resist. Could hardly care of the attention that she would garner. That sound a risk, but worth it... in her opinion. That sound nothing short of wonderful. Combined with so many cats and roaring engines sounded almost cataclysmic, like hell had overtaken the earth! She swore the very buildings quaked then. Just as fast she uttered once more word, that probably couldn't be heard over that ear shattering loudness for but a matter of seconds as though it never happened. "Silence." Regardless of that singular snapped word being unheard.. they listened. It suddenly grew so eerily silent as you could hear a pin drop. That moment was only mere seconds and yet no less potent. She hardly wanted it to stop. That was all they needed was to warrant more unwanted attention.

There was still that concern of numbers and Risque was quick to offer a solution, despite that inner reluctance to call upon that favour and who it might see surface in her city. It surely may have not been enough, but it was something to help further lean that victory in their favour. "They won't need much prompting, I know they are efficient killers, you will just need to direct them where you want them. I have met some of them in the past, there are a few within that coven that are incredibly powerful and useful. Because of that, you might need to exert a..... little dominance. Do what you must, be brutal if you need. I have no doubt of your ability to be persuasive." That short warning would suffice, she knew if anyone could command them besides herself, it was her lover. After all, like was attracted to like.

Risque returned to her spot along the railing, next to Darcy, leaning into that railing once more, Risque's finger's caress changing direction so that those circles turned into something more elaborate in design. That mention of Cade's dogs hardly worried her in the slightest. In fact she barely reacted, her voice nearly sounded bored.

"I may have a plan as to how to bring Cade to us.. I will know for sure how feasible it is when my spies return." She knew that one wereleopard, in particular, that could turn herself entirely undetectable. Her foot warmer would be the most useful in this. That little thing was so timid and yet just as much loyal, but she would follow Risque's command without question. Oh, how angry Cade would be... She knew her plan to draw him out was like poking a bear and yet she hardly feared those consequences, she never did. But wasn't that what they wanted to provoke the man to bring his entire forces here? She wouldn't be alive if she lived in fear.

There was a mention of that sniper riffle, guns, her gunslinging cowboy was so adept within his mastery of them Risque hardly showed the same fascination with those deadly machines, she preferred a more intimate kind of violence. Up close and personal. Something a gun could not accomplish. Guns were far too neat for her liking. It was an easy afterthought to offer him the opportunity to buy more guns to add to his already impressive arsenal, in which he has probably added to since the last she had seen it. One thing for certain was that she would not go to war without the most superior weapons, even if they were to never grace her hands. Her gaze slides toward him for a moment, shifting her body so that she could face him slightly, still propping against that railing like it was the most comfortable thing, her finger tapping on that smooth surface. The polite dip of his head in that gentlemanly gesture he offered as his only response, but she knew that free reign seemed to amuse him.

That conversation shifts once more, toward Cade and Risqué's effective plot to draw him out in the heat of that battleground. It was fool proof and the she-devil truly had no qualms with joining those engagements down below when the fodder was removed. As much as she would have wanted to join the carnage early on it would have been impossible. Not when she was focusing on controlling so many felines at once. But Cade... his motives and ego alone would make him easy enough to manipulate into showing his presence. Risque's gaze peers out toward the cats once more, deciding to allow the small ones return to their respective homes, releasing her hold upon them after a moment later. It would be much easier to call upon these felines the next time. Her hold on those unaligned weres.. and those larger cats.. Those.. she wanted a closer inspective look later. But it was that growl, albeit quiet as it was, drew those icy eyes toward him, that look akin to an executioner's blade. It was obvious he hardly liked that idea and yet it felt a lot like him attempting to say no. His words sliced off as if her knew better, as though he knew he waded through perilous waters. Did he not think she could handle herself? Did he not remember how she had ripped the hearts from men and women alike? Her face grows stern, defiant, tilting her chin upwards as a growl threatens to rip from her then as she pushes away from her comfortable spot. That easy, carefree air between them nearly obliterated. He was so quick to remedy that mistake but it might have been too late, the blood was in the water and she scented it. That gaze that once peered at her snapped away as if giving into that submission. She moves, striding with liquid grace so she closes the distance between them.

She presses against him with her hand that shot out suddenly, pushing him so he presses into the railing. The she-devil doesn't relent as she allows her face to invade his space. Her voice is low and vicious. "I have endured through worse odds.. have leveled covens to the ground.. I have brought far worse men than Cade to their knees." Even Darcy couldn't truly control her, even with his methodical words and honied compliments. They might be easier to get her in bed with those tactics.

How hot a temper of hers flashes then. There is a deadly confidence to her tone. "I will not be sidelined in my own war. I fear no one. Most certainly not Cade or his henchmen." She hardly liked the idea of being.. baby sat by men with guns perched above either. She would delve into that war when she saw fit.. Just like that she pulls away, turning away from him, walking along that railing a few steps, those cats still filing out, except for what was already hers and those she had selected.

That conversation shifts once more to where risqué would position herself in that battle and when she would enter that battle. She hesitates mid-step, contemplating it before giving her answer, pivoting once more, walking back down along that line of the rail. She truly hadn't much of a choice even if she wanted a piece of the action early on, it irked her. She wasn't quite sure if she could hold herself back, especially if she saw the tides shifting for the worse. She would not allow them to lose. That mention that she had a surprise or two for those enemy vampires that managed to make it in that hellish maze. They most certainly would not make it out. She nodded her head at having a cat or two lurking in the building. "... and liquid silver. I have been experimenting with it.. It is nasty stuff." The very thought of it and its potential seemed to bring her back toward the war before them than his previous misstep.

That admittance that she would enjoy this, and she meant it, waiting only made like an anticipatory torment. The she-devil settles once more next to him, that further agitation merely gone as quickly as it came like ripples in a glass pond smoothing once more. How many opportunities did she get to truly unleash her own claws? On the small scale, often, almost enough to sate her. But this war was an opportunity to practically bathe in the blood of her enemies, to crush one of the biggest rebellions against her vicious reign. Instead of bringing her worry, it brings her a sense of sick eager contentment, a new being to crush and snap into oblivion. After all, there were very few that opposed her now. Many recognized a lost battle when they saw it. There weren't many that would dare risk that chance and yet here was one, like a juicy writhing worm parting from the soil of a damp morning of her garden.

The velvet night was clear and flooded with a renewed anticipatory for complete annihilation. That chuckle escapes his own lips his gaze meeting her own, as though he could feel it too. Rarely, does she allow that perverse emotion dance and flit upon her gorgeous pale face. How very few things seemed to spark that within the old vampire. After all, she had lived many lifetimes and seen so very much, her lips curled into an even rarer smile, genuine and yet no less terrifying as the sharpened points of her fang glint in the worshiping moon's silvery glow. It was as if they required that blood to paint them.

Darcy's gaze swept outward, her felines, those most powerful congregating to the sidelines until they were sent back within the confines of Syn, where she would later take stock. It was his words that draw her within a reverie of a memory. Did she remember? Of course, she did. That carnage and mayhem could not be duplicated even though she craved for it so. The night they met was one of her most favoured nights, if only she thought to vocalize that. "Of course, I remember. It is a pity. I too miss it." She pauses slightly, allowing her thoughts to veer back to him. It was at those final uttered words that she positioned her body so it faced him as he looked out, he seemed almost wistful in that moment. That gaze resting peering from the blood upon his neck toward his face as if considering something obscure in that complex mind of hers, yet it hardly betrays the rest of her features. She was as unreadable as a statue.

Risque does not mention his maker, after all, she nearly remade him when she drained him of almost all he had only to fill him with her own. For the vain creature that she was had imagined him reborn that night, in the massacre and remade from her. She would hardly acknowledge the man that made him because he was hers now, no one else. Not that his maker was alive to protest this, in truth she wasn't sure if he would have. Their bond perhaps far more twisted than a true makers bond and perhaps often stronger, especially if you compared it to the ones who disappointed her now. How his words seem to appeal to her, it was like he could see her thoughts, her desires for this very battle. "I will never forget the look upon your face. It was like you knew.." Knew what? She never elaborated on, there was simply no need.

She listened to her lover's tale, those very words bringing that memory to life as though she could see it before her. If she allowed herself to close her eyes it would be all she saw. The night, it was a massacre. She ripped man and vampire apart, destroying everything in her warpath. Bodies were strewn across the ground in a sea of red that one couldn't even see the dirt beneath the forest floor. She remembered what it was like to destroy every last one of them, almost. Destroying that coven had been almost easy, depending on who you ask. The hunting party she constructed all lay to apocalyptic ruin, they were weak, just another body to carpet the ground. Pity, she had hopes for at least one of them. She remembered scouring through the trees looking for any last survivors to cut down. That victory had long been secured, once she tore off the head of the final man with her bare hands and teeth. After the body had fallen, she saw movement within the trees. That was when she saw him. There was not an inch of her that wasn't painted in blood except for those hauntingly pale eyes, her hair so slick with it as it was saturated, clinging to her body. That dress she wore already reduced to bloodied rags, she looked akin to the devil, just crawled out of the bowels of hell itself. She moved through those bodies, having to walk upon their fleshy ruin like a red carpet. Those precarious moments never more tense than they were then. There was something in his eyes, in the way that he looked at her that still haunts her to this day. She remembered circling him, wordlessly, drawing that circle around him ever so tighter with every step, that dance was like an artful executioner's ballet. He was covered in blood, perhaps just as much as her own, battling her own people, she wondered. Every part was drenched except for this one spot along his face, along his neck. There was something about it she found so entirely distracting. It only got worse, the closer she got. When that murderous hellion reached the point when she could touch him, neither of them took the first blow for a short time. Surely, he would be a goner. But then he wouldn't have been here to tell that tale. Her mind snapped back to reality.

"You were so young then.. you were the last one standing. Most men would have fled, would have shown fear. Even as I approached, with every step closer, brought you one step closer to the true death. You never once showed fear." She slid a little closer, standing right in front of him. Her hand reaching out for his neck like she might strangle him without that full extent to that pressure she was capable of. At least this time he could breathe. "Just like this.. I had my hand around your throat, I remember the way your flesh felt beneath my fingers.." She released her hold only slightly, her voice just above a seductive whisper. "One side along your face and neck was untouched by blood, somehow." She let her icy finger trail along the very same spot, starting from his temple down to his collarbone her finger suspended there in place, lightly bumping into that thick chain. "Do you remember what you did next that spared your very life?" She questioned ominously, pulling back her own hand.

Darcy's mind once again returns to the battle ahead, asking for the intended use of her stubborn jaguars. Her mind takes a brief, fleeting moment to consider, but the answer was clear, simpler than perhaps anything else. She spoke it with plain certainty. "We can't afford not to. Is Harley ready?" Not that it truly mattered if she was or it wasn't, she would expect results anyways. She had no room for failures. What better way than to see her worth, than to throw her into a pit of vampires just to see if she would rise or sink.

It was Darcy's admittance that Harley had a big mouth, made her sharp manicured brow to rise abruptly. "Are you telling me you cannot handle one little panther girl? I do suppose I can't blame you... my brother couldn't even kill her." What was it about.. her? She scoffed at the mention of her brother, her eyes narrowing slightly, but her emotions remaining even for now. That use of her powers seemed to settle something inherently restless within her. "My hellish cowboy, haven't you yet figured out the beauty of weres? Once you pull out their animal, they cannot talk back? Mind you, then you have to keep an eye on those claws, but if you break her spirit, you shouldn't have much to worry about." That advice was all together sound, that topic was almost mundane in consideration to all they had discussed prior. "You don't need my assistance do you?"

That is when those words seem to settle, that mention of Harley's relative clicked recognition within her then, meeting her pale eyes. "Adrien is alive? Oh, what an interesting little plot twist... that means he either killed Nathaniel or gave up trying. Did you finish him?" Amusement flashed within her eyes, pausing allowing him to respond before asking the question. "Did I ever tell you what my brother did to that little family of theirs?"

It was that mention of were's breeding tendencies, now that was a curious consideration. She rose her hand that easily dished the air in an idle gesture, before resting it upon the railing once more. "Just like mortals...It is true, they do breed like flies. But they also die like them... they make for good soldiers and slaves. It's like they were created for that very purpose. I believe were's were made to serve the worthy." Just not everyone had the power to control them like her.

Risque

just face the moon and put your death mask on