Risque batted Darcy's complaint of Tetradore's disobedience aside. After all, he was her pet to do with as she pleased. She would discipline him as she saw fit, in her own time. How she could see that restraint he forced upon himself. Tetradore's defiance even in his sluggishness, once an amusing little trait to destroy out of him now grew tiresome. She knew she could not blame it all on that venom... her unruly feline was never short of defiance in his own way, even now, it wore on that last fibre of patience she had for her ebony feline.. And yet her true interest was not within him now, it was within that fae that had reminded her so much of someone she had once known. How she had envisioned this moment, a chance to reenact a demise she had been denied of. Oh, Darcy had provided her far more of a gift than he had even realized. It was enough to quell her violent and venomous ways for now... not when she was so close to obtaining, what she wanted. Even if it was only a figment of the real thing. Such an opportunity was a rare one.

She was all too aware of how Darcy seemed to flinch at her order of Tetradore's venom to paint the exposed fae's pale flesh. Such pain he would suffer before he would succumb to death. She was hardly sympathetic to Darcy's wariness of that in which he had suffered from Tetradore long ago. She had remembered how badly damaged his neck was, any longer with the effects of that acid and she was sure it could have potentially bested him. How she remembered that mark he left! That blatant disrespect of being marked other than herself was not easily forgotten.

All that was on Risque's mind was how she enjoyed watching the way that acid destroyed flesh, she enjoyed watching it slowly disintegrate what was once unblemished as if morbidly fascinated at exposing all that that skin liked to hide.

Yet, she was not about to let Tetradore's acidic saliva do all that work. Oh no, she had a gift to play with. How Darcy had truly put effort in tonight's festivities and that hardly went unnoticed. He was obedient and loyal as always to her. Even though his transgressions from earlier lingered even if she had claimed forgiveness. It was rare to have a moment when she had both of her men work together in unison... begrudgingly or not. She had to admit she enjoyed the sight.. Enjoyed that the victim looked so much like Matteo... that if even for a moment she could make him suffer.

Risque seemed to question how many cranks it would take for the fae man's limbs to pop, and the thought of the pain it would inflict the she-devil seemed to relish within. "Do you wish to wager it?" She rose a slender brow upward in that all too deceptive look. That vague sense of amusement which lingered upon her striking features may have appeared toying and yet the thoughts that played in a perverse fashion within the confines of her mind would be.... Nothing but perilous to Darcy. It would be within his best interest to keep that train of thought upon the other two men in that room. No, it was far better to put the emphasis upon her little plaything that whined and wheezed beneath Tetradore's crushing weight rather than the wonderful games she could concoct for himself.

"Hmm.." She mused sadistically as if to herself.. Nothing good ever had come from Risque growing silent as gears began to churn. Yet Darcy seemed nothing short of interested in the fae's own suffering, he too enjoyed in Risque torturous appetites so long as it didn't fall upon him and even then... she saw his face twist into pleasure at the pain she could inflict. It wasn't long for the Fae's cries to bleed into that room, his blood toyed relentless within her nostrils. No, she would wait to feed when this was over.. When she had fully garnered all the lucid pleasure she could draw from her new plaything.

It was better for both men in that room that they were not on the receiving end to her perverse pleasures. Both at least smart enough to know that. At least she had thought. Darcy seemed eager to obey Risque, as always. One of the very few that rarely disappointed her, even though he certainly pushed his limitations tonight. Slowly, but surely he began to manoeuvre that crank as she had requested. All that pleading, gasping, and tears did little to help the fae now. There was an eagerness to Darcy's next words, her pale eyes distracted from the scene to peer at her lover. She considered that very question as if she tasted it word for word. Ahh, the man seemed proportionate enough that she bet he could come apart all at once. What a pleasing sight in itself. One she had never seen executed before her within her own control.

"He might. Depending on equal pressure... and Tetradore's..." Her words were halted as Tetradore moved... he was not producing venom to drizzle upon the fae's waiting skin. No his powerful jaw was already wrapped around her plaything. Before she had even a moment to react, that sickening crunch echoed within her mind like a curse absorbed greedily by her dungeon's walls. Risque could hardly quell her vicious rage. How. dare. he.... She moved abruptly to the now bleeding and dead fae, limp and his jaw slack with words unsaid.

Her fae.

That she had such plans for, that she had all but fantasized about for centuries. She could have killed her insolent pet right at that given moment. Her disobedient Tetradore, robbing from her from far too much to be forgiven. He would pay. She reached out to gently pinch the fae man's chin as if confirm he was dead, to relish in the sight even though she seemed to run her finger across his jaw in a nearly tender way. How she had so much left to say and yet again... she was denied of it. Revenge was so very sweet and yet her tongue is soured with the taste of having it stolen. Her lips curl into a vicious snarl, her fangs exposed as her gaze honed upon the unruly Tetradore.

"You are a fool." Her words bit out with a swiftness of a whip as she sliced across the space between herself and Tetradore. She hardly held back as she struck him so hard and fast across his cheek, the wicked force that it rattled through her hand and upward."I will make you regret that." Never had she wanted to pull out his very teeth more than she did now, starting with the fangs that put an end to her fairy. Ah but that would only lead down another path that was far too quick a suffering for what he had done. It hardly seemed to contain that poetic justice that chanted Tetradore's very name.

His disobedience would not be forgiven so easily or likely at all. Her fury rose within her, like an ancient dragon spreading its magnificent wings. She made sure to grab him by the scruff, tossing him to the ground with a shuddering thud to where he was unlikely to land on his feet despite that old feline saying. "Stay down.." She hissed, her affinity for felines all but pummeled with an unrelenting force to ensure he did just that. She pressed one of her heels into his side to ensure he was all but pinned beneath her, where he belonged. She was hardly gentle as she increased that pressure as if seeking for a satisfying pop of his skin.

Abruptly she called. "Darcy.." Her voice snapped, displeasure clear within her tone, her accented kissed words far stronger than usual which only betrayed her anger. He hardly deserved the full weight of her ire. Not yet anyways. Or maybe he had. He was close enough to stop it. The suspicious thought caused her eyes to narrow unwilling to forget that very fact. "Salvage what you can if his blood. You steal a single drop and I will make you suffer the same fate as Tetradore." That threat was a promise. "Or perhaps.. I have something better in store for you.." Those melodious words were ominous and yet that suggestion clear. She already knew his bloodlust, his insatiable hunger that this task would be an act of torture in itself. He had already stolen a taste of Tetradore was only an indication of the true battle he faced in dealing with Fae blood. The most delicious and rare, flavorful blood of all. One that seemed to affect their kind in many different ways. How she wished to enjoy that blood while he was alive. At the very least... he was still warm and still salvageable. Even though his purpose for anything else had been destroyed.

She pressed her heel further and further into Tetradore's plushy side, simply because she could even though her demenour remained calm, her temper threatened to burst. She could beat him plainly within an inch of his life and it still would not be enough. Could he not just for one night play his role?

She hardly released her hold reluctantly, yet her powers still remained, a choking hold like a noose around her felines neck. "Turn back. I tire of this form." She said simply, pleased with herself as she dug her heel in all the more in hopes to hear him cry out. Knowing he would disappoint her in this too."You've lost your manners again, mon chat.. And I know you are so much more durable than my last breakable little plaything that you have so inconveniently stolen from me. It was almost like you knew... what he meant to me. Perhaps I should have allowed the fae to pull the lever upon you. Because I can allow anyone to be master over you. Do not think I won't. Perhaps I should allow Darcy to exact his revenge I take my fill." She mused, that fae should have been strictly her own. The foolish cat should have learned by now that the feline queen was in no shortage of ideas of the hellish torment she could induce upon his fragile little world.

"Now." That sharp command was simple and yet rang of her extreme impatience.

Risque waited so long for him to turn back from beast to man. His usefulness in his feline form was nonexistent. It was about time he was reminded who he belonged to and to who pulled his strings. He might not have been able to truly witness the machine in all its glory but he would certainly experience it. After all.. A cat could not scream like his human form could.

"Take the fae's place on the rack." She ordered, her pale eyes rove over the caramel flesh of her pet. It was like an empty canvas for her to do as she pleased. There was an eagerness that fueled her. For torturing Tetradore was one of her favoured games.

One thing for certain, he would suffer by her hand and perhaps.. That was indeed spinning straw into gold. Which was a fortunate thing for Darcy in her current state.. For now.

"Bring me a glass of that fae blood and my silver." She peered a cutting glance toward Darcy, curious about the method of extraction of that valuable blood... or simply because she was checking to see if she had caught him in the act of something he shouldn't do. After all, he should have been hooked up to that machine that would drain him. That machine she had made specifically to collect the blood of her victims. A machine that lined up with those major arteries and made incisions so that the blood could be collected while gravity helped it along. It was a pity it had come to this..

Now... the true question was.. Could Darcy keep out of the proverbial cookie jar to avoid his lover's wrath? And would Tetradore be able to maintain his levelled stoic demenour when she broke him apart limb from limb?