Who: The Darkest of all Angels

Where: A Dark Place

Why: Cause she damn well feels like it and you wouldn't want to be the one to tell her she couldn't be there anyway. (*smirks*)

*CRASH*

She had turned in a swirl of black like a veil. A vase fell, and with it a long row of expensive and very breakable things behind it that it knocked on it's way down. Crashes, the sounds of them most definitely, lit the entire hall with sound, and by the place where the vase fell was a small man.

Her eyes narrowed on him darkly. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered at her raven eyes only glittered in the darkness, making him think of evil, as those lips that seemed so perfect earlier pressed hard, at her watched one of her fists tense.

"Be. Quiet. Touch. Nothing." Her voice was evasive, though a stroke of anger was underneath the voice that no longer sounded heavenly or like music. It rather sounded like a roll of thunder, or the crackle of electricity. Sharp, and fast, and leaving you feeling empty.

"You'll do well to do the same. Ma'am." At the same time a sound like a click filled the room.

He saw the man, before he thought she did, or so he thought at least, he wasn't sure of her. She reminded him of his mothers' tales of dark magic. A butler looking man, who seemed the size of a house, turning on the light in the room. She had turned suddenly to face him, the veil of black hair in long braids even though it was pulled up, swirled around her shoulders.

"Ah, now that would be unwise, monsieur." She said, and he noted that this time her voice was the finest of silken sound, and satiny feeling that surrounded even him, who she was not speaking to. And when her words finished they left him wanting her to speak more. To say anything, should she just allow the voice to be heard a second longer.

The vile temptress was taking slow steps towards him, the simple act of her walking, making his knees shiver, like there was correlation of which he knew there was none. And simply watching the back of her move away, he wondered if this man servant knew what kind of viper he was allowing to slither his way.

"Stop. Not one more step. I will fire."

But she still walked. Her hips swayed, and her hands moved with a gentleness of something inhuman, as she continued to walk toward him. He heard the soft bell laughter she gave as if she were amused, and she did stop, but only about five feet from him. "How about you put your gun away and we solve this like decent mature people."

The outfit of leather and silk, contrasting with this gemmed demoness, and the way she could melt one. It sat snug on her body as if might have been the thinnest fabrics in the world, barely touching her skin and painted against her soft, milky white skin. And the way she walked, like you'd never seen a woman in your life before her. And the way she'd look at you, like you were the only person on the planet, like she'd burn you alive and you'd be in pure pleasure the entire time, or pure pain.

He wouldn't have given all the money and all the women or anything he ever wanted to be on that side of her. You couldn't make him deal with that. He'd already been with her near three days now. That was sure suicide. She was a demon. Pure and evil, and she made you want her.

Because of course, good people could be swayed by them.

"Decent mature people? You've broken into this house, with intent unknown. You are burglars or worse, I'd bet." The man was angry, and his face was reddening as blood flowed into it.

He could see from behind her. She had laced her hands together and nodded almost demurely, he could tell that by the way her hair and her hair move. "Yes, like decent mature people. I'll give you once chance to kill me."

The man laughed, but it was tense. His gun was pointed right at her chest, for all the second man could tell "One chance to kill you? I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to call the police and have you taken away."

"Yes," She said, and he could heard that sickening smile in her voice, that one that meant she was about to crush a mouse in her coils. A shudder ran down his back, and at the same time other places in him warmed, sickening him as his body reacted to her presence.

"One chance, as a decent, mature person, to kill me." Her hair swished as her arms parted and then laced behind her back, and her voice started another note of amusement and satisfaction. "Then I'm going to kill you."

She took another step, and then another, and suddenly a shot rang out, and then silence. He winced, but opening his eyes she neither fell back no moved, and the man was a gasped. Looking down by her feet, fighting the urge to run, he saw the bullet on the floor, half a foot from her silver sandals.

And suddenly there was a strangled, gasping noise, and the man, as large as a house, and fierce as a guard dog fell down, shuddered and then stopped moving. The woman sighed, and rubbed her hands together in front of her, and said annoyedly. "I hate getting my hands dirty with this kind of rubbish."

"M-m-m-m-mistres?" His voice stammered, as he couldn't figure out how to control it, appalled, astonished and sickened even further.

"I severed his carotid artery, shutting down the flow of blood en route to his brain." Her voice was unfeeling, turning sharp cold like winter ice and frostbite, as she spun around to look at him. Her eyes twinkled like stars, dark black blue in their pale holders. They were sharper, harder and more deadly than her voice.

"Stop sniveling, if you must follow me around." She said with obvious dislike and annoyance, or was it down right hate? He was sure she would kill him if he crossed a line, he got her angry or even if she got bored with him. "Go fetch the seal."

As he ran off, the faint whimpering and rushed breathing allowing her to follow him more easily than normal. She struck out a hand looking at the palm a moment, not a single scratch or scar in her perfect pale skin. "For I have a date with a dank, dark place, that I know better than the back of my hand."

At that same moment, she'd over turned her hand to look at the back in irony. Her nails were a different color again. She painted them silver, in the smallest of tribute to the largest of her latest toy

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