at my feet you'll bow to me
Risque took great enjoyment watching her pet fall methodically to his knees before his queen, without any of his usual defiance. It would take far more than that to convince her that this temporary obedience was nothing but an effort to placate his fickle mistress. Yet, it was as though she could sense that thick apprehension that she created. Yet her feline was apt at his feeble attempt to hide his emotions behind that stoic veneer he so clung to and lost each and every time. How she knew better, that it was all for show. Why even bother? After all, the living body had many tells and how well she knew his own.

It would appear that her defiant pet had found this battle was hardly worth it, especially with that reminder of the bladed weaponry upon her fingertips. There was more than one visual reminder of what she had at her disposal to make his life just that much harder. Like he needed the reminder. Still, his every action caused a reaction within the feline queen, even if those around her often missed the slight nuances she narrowed upon. After all, there were so many sightless creatures, barely looking beyond their own noses. She allowed that laden moment to linger as if savouring the fine notes of his submission, allowing him to feel it. Tetradore's vibrant gaze lowered to the ground. He didn't even dare to look at her remarkable heels, as he remained silent save for his heartbeat and controlled breath.

With pale, depthless eyes, she dragged them over his exposed body as she appraised her feline in his human form. She seemed to notice something different about him. How her mind latch upon the idea of it and yet she can't quite put a finger on it. Perhaps it was something to do with his scent?

Hm. Perhaps it had merely been too long and humans did tend to age. Or maybe it was his pitiful little life he had so desperately clung to. That she could imagine that he hoped would be enough to drown out the monsters that controlled his world. As if anything he filled his life would keep his true reality at bay. The queen stood tall above him like a judge and executioner, about to administer her judgement as he hopelessly waited patiently for whatever she might deliver. It had been a long time since she had heard him scream.

Risque spoke, as she prodded her pet with mere words like a tiger playing with her rabbit Yet he remained painfully silent, unshakable in his impressive cement resolve hardly cracked when he spoke those two appealing words as he addressed her properly. 'Yes mistress.' No two better words could ever come from him, she was certain. How she had tired of his childish defiance that she would swiftly reprimand. Her pet did not react even a little to her goading of the Ark as if he resigned himself to her. Oh, why didn't she call him to her sooner? This new broken Tetradore was one she could endlessly amuse herself with.

It was finally when that the bait upon her lure was offered to him in the guise of a gift. Was it curiosity ensnared her pet or just the mere inevitability of what was to come? Yet his words were dead, hollow, toneless things. They hardly matched his vibrant emerald eyes that reluctantly rose to meet her own pale, hypnotic chilling pools of depravity. The she-devil should have struck him immediately for raising his gaze without her permission and yet she almost liked the look of him just like that. Yet there was plenty of time to explore that as her cruel smile echoed all the unspoken thoughts that traipsed across her mind. His brow furrowed deeply with what she could only assume was a hint of worry. Good. He should be.

That very suspicion within him was clear like he could sense the rapid approach of his own demise. After all, was that not how it always was with them? It was far too enjoyable to watch his little brain scramble like claws with no reprieve of traction, to attempt to piece together a puzzle he never could. Her ruby red lips softened into a hint of a loaded smile. One that was laden with a certain kind of amusement at his own expense. Risque was nothing if not content to allow him to steep without an answer. She allowed him his voice, as it was her who had addressed him first. Yet all he could muster was a question forged from her own words. How lazy. He obviously heard her the first time. Why question what was already apparent? "Did I stutter, boy?" Yet there was a striking disconnect with the cruelty of those words and the saccharine tone she spoke them. She waited only so long to make sure he would not do anything foolish she would need to punish him for. After those heavy lazy seconds ticked by, she reached elegantly for her crystal wine glass, while her other fingers seemed to enjoy the sound of grinding talons. The dreadful quiet but striking sound resembled almost like a knife being sharpened.

Her thoughts drifted to that gift. The spelled earring, she had acquired for him. One that was not difficult to obtain considering her contacts. Witches. How she loathed them. The very taste of their blood was vile and offensive and yet they had their uses. Such as this. The warlock that crafted her feared her and yet how quickly that fear died with the potential of her business. Fortunately, this warlock had yet to earn her ire just yet. Then again, she did have something was his. His beloved feline familiar was locked away in a cage somewhere within those walls.

After luxuriating the taste of that aged French wine she elaborated. "Of course, you don't have a hole for it yet.. " She sounded almost pleasant. Yet the promise of a hole would certainly spike his anxiety. "Just a little poke, it won't hurt much at all, mon chat.." Like anyone could believe that. Only in this case, it was by far the most painless torture yet... at least at first. It was almost like she was soothing his worry, her sing-song voice woven with that light French accent. She gave no motion for him to rise... intending for him to stay on his knees for as long as she desired him there. Perhaps he could be a part of the décor.

The instructions given with that earing were clear.. Pierce his ear with the enchanted silver rod that had been coated with her blood to both seal and bind.

Simple enough.

"Remain." Was the only word, a command she offered and expected to be obeyed, abandoning her glass once more before with unparalleled grace she pivoted. She strode across the room, her hips rolling softly as she moved to pluck that velvet black box, along with that dainty silver rod with a sharpened point. One end, the end in which she held it had a black leather-clad, tightly wound strap that was wrapped several times around the base to serve as a handle. All while the other end was long, pointy and sharp. She returned with it in hand. Her cruel gaze landed upon her pet with what appeared like apathy before opening the box that contained the silver earring, that lay upon the silk cushion.

It looked like an earring, nothing more and yet how she knew better. That lance still pinched between her fingers of her left hand, the talons gripped onto the leather. "Palm out." She demanded as she plucked it from the box, placing the empty container upon the coffee table next to her partially filled glass. "Keep your hand just like that. Oui.." She placed the earring into his opened palm as she determined which ear she wished for it to go. Right or left... hmm. It hardly mattered what side... her gaze narrowed with scrutiny; her tongue brushed across her lips in an afterthought. "Right or left?" As if she truly cared for his preference. It was like she offered him a choice. It mattered so little where it went... it would work the same. "I think it will make you look... edgy." A low semblance of a chuckle escaped her then, as though the sound originated deeper within her throat yet there was almost something sinister to that seemingly innocuous sound. It was obviously not a sound of mirth. It was more of a morbid amusement that struck her as she withheld all her twisted little secrets from him. After all, his duty as her pet was to serve her, not ask questions. It was like she played a game where she held all the pieces...while being several moves ahead. Yet that was exactly how she always liked to play.

Risque was unwilling to lose and tonight, she had everything to gain.

I like you damaged, but I need something left
Something for me, something for me to wreck