Paint it Black (Invite)

[Roderic]

The one word answer was so simple, but yet not at the same time. So simply said, but held a massive amount of weight to it. For both them. I nod my head, but was I nodding it at her revelation, or nodding it at the request? I think both. I'm trying to process what she said and what had just happened. "Yeah." I say as a hand curls around Dominique's ankle and lifts the foot to just above my abdomen area.

Her foot is tucked tightly to it, as I look at the entry point and the potential damage done. Unfortunately, with the black wisps of smoke, it's hard to tell. "Can you heal injuries?" I don't know a lot about Dominique, so it's a fair question. My left hand curls around the tool, my eyes on her once that task is accomplished. This lets her know that I'm about to pull it out, but also gives me the chance to see any signs of pain or discomfort as I pull it out of her. Was it wrong of me to want to see the smallest signs of a grimace across her facial features?

"Tell me your story. How did Doc come to find you?" I ask, engaging in small talk. Or maybe it wasn't small talk. I liked Doc and found the fact he had sired this woman interesting. I found Dominique interesting, was more like it. I've heard some things, but I don't think I've heard the entire story. Not that I was asking for it. What I was really looking for was why did Doc choose her? What made her so...special? Only when Dominique begins talking do I focus on the tool in her foot. With a tug, the gouger is out of her toe, allowing more strings of inky substance out of the entry point.

[Dominique]

Dark wide eyes found him on his knees and the cool sensation of his skin wrapped around her ankle to solidify the moment. This was a scene she had not anticipated between them. It caught her off guard more than the invasion of something sharp through the top of her shoe and her foot. It went deeper than the flesh and bone that was penetrated and it worked from there to places she had nearly lost touch with over time. She didn’t blink. Like a deer caught in a wash of lights that held it prisoner for that instant she was only free when his voice broke through and she clung to the simple question. Was she able to heal herself?

“Yes, I can.”

She wanted to tell him it was hardly going to compare to the effects if he did the deed instead. She wanted to feel it overcoming the minor discomfort she was confident would be resolved with or without his intervention. Only the one who creates the pain can effectively relieve you of it. Isn’t that how it was supposed to be?

And that was not the extent of it. She felt something beyond the pain. Pain that didn’t rank at the top of her list of all time worst or best. Not until he had his hand on the tool and with the slightest movement she could feel a world completely unexpected bloom to existence. It started from her incapacitated toe and worked through every nerve that went upward in her body. What was he doing? It was as if the tool he had been using had become a joystick under his influence. Her bottom lip was pinned firmly between the hard sharp lines of her upper and lower teeth. The slightest taste of her own blood surfacing behind her lips froze the degree of pressure she applied to her self-inflicted bite.

“On the run.”

The scent of the fresh night air of the past and the aroma of the present shop around her as she stood balancing on one foot like a flamingo reminded her that so much time had passed. Enough so that being caught was no longer enough to send her heart racing like one of the fearful rabbits he caught on her property. The thought of his hand releasing her from his hold, from the focus of his eyes currently upon her...that had her feeling what would have been the equivelant of a deep pounding in her chest. That is if her heart still had the ability to do so.

Realizing she said little to answer his question she stumbled through the story. Out came the good, the bad and the really ugly. It was honest in its delivery, no dramatic pauses or moments to display some emotion that would have her seemingly regretful. He hunted her and she had hunted him. She was warned and she ignored it. She did not heed what she had been taught and trained to do. She brought risk to those she had loved and swore to protect. She failed and cost many more than she could replace. She ended up with blood on her hands that would never wash free. And she was responsible. It would never have happened if she had turned and walked away. When her voice finally went silent she felt freedom. In the end she offered up what she come to accept and embrace. How long had it been that she was talking, doing her balancing act as she braced HOPE and LESS on the table behind her?

“I guess that isn’t what you expected to hear.” She pressed her lips hard together as they rolled inward briefly. “He wanted me dead then he chose to let me see what I had been fighting and hating from the inside.” She swallowed feeling a sharp long ago pain slice across the center of her throat. A flash of blackness filled her mind then she rested her eyes back on his face. “Then he handed down his sentence.” She looked at the leg she was connected to in his hands. “In the end I found I was more like him and less like the one I was always trying and failing to be.” The blackblood surfaces and beads up and ultimately rising into the air. “How about you? What brought you to the dark side?”

[Roderic]

She tells me she's able to, but Dominique doesn't heal it. Is it because she's unable to? Taped out of resources for the night? Or is it because it's too small of a wound to worry about? I'm gifted with the ability to heal two wounds should I have them due to a relic...from her. I do not think her name. She is only known as her. Calling people by their name or nickname indicates they are important or mean something and she no longer means anything to me. Another nameless person in a crowd of other nameless people in the city.

I stay on my knees and look up at her as she starts her story. The gouger is upside down and I'm spinning it against my thumb as I listen to the story and how and why Doc choose her. I grin a little. It sounds just like something Doc would do. Something I would do. "It wasn't what I was expecting, but then again, I wasn't expecting anything." I tell Dominique truthfully. Just because I ask people something doesn't mean I already know the answer (or maybe I do, if it comes to logical **** and not emotional baggage ****), or expect a certain answer to come from them. I want them to speak for themselves and speak the truth.

"As for me...I guess you could say I brought myself to the dark side." I look away from her, focusing on the black wisps that are trickling out of her shoe. I want so badly to reach out and play with them as they float in the air, before they are gone for forever. I proceed with the story as I set the gouge on the floor by my right boot. "I was a blood thief. Chosen, gladly. One or two of my...acquaintances were getting some hassles from some vampires, so I decided after hearing some guys go around town flying the 'rah-rah-blood thief flag,' to sign up. At the time I didn't want to be them, be like us. I wanted to be better than us. Best of both worlds, part human, part vampire. Enough to do some damage should the need arise." My left thumb strokes the outside of her shoe, the bottom of my thumb being coated in her blood. I raise my thumb to my mouth, stick out my tongue and lick the black blood off my thumb.

"I had it wrong, the whole idea of it." I admit as my eyes search my thumb, making sure I got all her blood off of it. "I was trying to find the strongest, most powerful vampire. I had a few leads, but didn't get any until I pissed the right, or wrong people off. Phoenix was the one I thought was the oldest and most powerful vampire. When I fed from her, the powers I got..." I grin and shake my head. "I was wrong, I found out after she killed me and I came back, much to her disdain." I rub at the back of my head, recalling the large boulder she picked up and splattered my head and brains with the night I became a vampire. "Needless to say, some things haven't changed. I still prefer vampire blood to any other." My eyes look up at Dominique, waiting for her reaction; expecting the typical reaction when admitting to being an n-rat.

[Dominique]

As soon as he says that it wasn’t what he was expecting she smiles just enough to meet his own. Not because it is required or it seems the thing to do on her part. She felt it, the reason to and it appeared across her lips. It was what she had to offer him, the truth. Some ran from it, tried to cover it up. Distance themselves from it like it wasn’t theirs to begin with or they were better than it was left to be. She had no reason to. Ugly or not it was hers. It was all she had when it came down to it and she owned it.

With Ric it seemed so matter of fact. The tone of his voice was no more pronounced or inflected than if he was discussing the weather until he mentions Phoenix. A name she knows through Doc for several reasons. Namely for the fact that she was his biological daughter before someone got ahold of her warm veins. It was a lengthy story with Doc and Phoenix but when it came down to genetics the woman in fact was his. The mention of her being the oldest or most powerful vampire makes sense. She was rumored to have the ability to mess up anyones night rather easily and was known to. How would Ric know different unless he went after her like he explains. He adds that it was to her disdain that he returned and for the first time she realizes just how much they have in common despite the obvious differences.

Neither went up knocking on their sire’s door asking for the gift. Both pretty much did the opposite and ended up as they are for it. For all that could be said about their beginnings there they were linked by the one who gave her a second chance. The tool was put to rest at the edge of his boot. Her eyes found the small black beads rising from the spaces in her shoe that were compromised. No wonder her feet sometimes got wet when she was chasing something down in the rain.

The black inky fluid that managed to stick to his finger before it had a chance to dissolve into thin air met his lips. She knew of blood thieves. One was a great friend before and after her turning. Yet she never knew exactly how it all worked for them once they were turned. It was said that drinking from the undead if you were one yourself could cause great harm. Her dark eyes stayed with him, particularly on his thumb which was against his lips. There he was revealing a clean thumb for his own personal inspection. It was something she found fascinating. The power of it all. Blood. She tasted it before. She saw things when she did. It was something she had not shared with anyone but the one she discovered it with. It happened once and what she saw with such clarity left her respecting the consuming of it more than being repulsed by it.

“Do you see their memories when you do?”

The pain in her foot was nearly gone and the wound beneath healing with her ability to do so. Her tongue brushed over the sharpline of her upper teeth while her eyes were fixed on his thumb and lips. Soon a small twirling ribbon of black shadow blood rose from her lips. It lingered like an offering in front of her face. In the process the surface of her tongue had a reasonable laceration courtesy of the lethal sharp points of her teeth. Talk about putting herself on the line. He did so why couldn’t she? There she stood waiting for an answer or perhaps something even more while the blood continued rise from the space between her parted lips.

[Roderic]

I waited while wondering why it was taking Dominique so long to heal the injury on her foot. It was like bait, tempting me, but I could withstand it. I saw blood of all types on a frequent basis and could walk by it just fine. Was this something planned by her, something women do? Or was she genuinely unable to for whatever reason tonight?

Her question threw me off guard, my eyes no longer bouncing from her foot to her face, as there was not much of a reaction to her face when I tasted her blood. Tasted her. Just a question. I nod very slowly as he tongue glides over her lips. I see why now, as black blotches appear on a spot that she nicked with her fang. I stand as the nod comes to a stand still. "I think so." That sounded as if I was uncertain or an idiot, so I go on a little more as my eyes focus on the black, more than what is behind them; her lips. "I wasn't and am still not sure. People I know said that those like me go insane. I started to suspect that might be what was going on." I admit, because I remember having these conversations with Skylar, but never really finishing them or thinking it was impossible to 'see' things that had already happened hours, days, or even years ago in someone's life. But, with Dominique's question, maybe it was possible and maybe I wasn't going insane as expected or predicted. Time will tell, I suppose.

"Do you?" I ask this for two reasons, wondering if she knew someone who did, or if she did herself. Was it possible we shared a similar trait on our drinking preferences? It's not a secret most people jump at telling others, but here we are. Revealing our deck; well a lot of it. Why was her lip still bleeding? Was it intentional, or was it nerves? I've seen the before while watching people and studying them. It's typically a female characteristic, but I've seen it in a few males as well. The rest of her body doesn't seem to imply that Dominique is nervous, not with her raised shoulders, or the depth of her legs from one another. So it was intentional. I grin a little and shake my head. That little amount wasn't going to let me 'see' anything; that is if that was what she was sharing and wondering. What would I see about her life? Was she a thrill seeker deep down or a scientist of sorts, conducting an experiment.

I decide that she's offered her blood, and act on it. Probably not in the way she expects, but then again, that's not an uncommon thing for me to do. My feet approach her, and we're standing close to one another. Very close. Not quite touching, but enough to make someone who wasn't accepting of the proximity to back away. I give her two seconds to back away. She doesn't. My tongue comes out and flicks across her lower lip, intentionally making her believe that I was going to go for what she offered. My arms wrap around her; one on her lower waist, the other on her shoulder. Just as my tongue disappears from sight and back into my mouth, the hand connected to the arm on her shoulder, clamps around her neck and it's tilted. Before she knows what's going to happen, I act and sink my fangs into the exposed flesh so I can get a bigger amount than what is being offered.

I'm not sure what I expect to 'see' as I absorb her blood in my mouth and in my system, but anythings on the table. What I get are images of someone working on a tattoo, which seems like a trivial memory at first. Most of everyone has them these days and nights. I think I may be the rare exception out there. Not that I've ever asked people to strip and show me their 'goods.' But as the tattoo starts to take shape under an arm and near her breast, I start to see that this tattoo is anything but ordinary. It's from a part of her life that doesn't exist anymore. As soon as I see the completed image, I pull back and drag my tongue over her neck just for good measure. What can I say? I like the taste of it. If I didn't, I wouldn't be what I was, would I? "You have a paladin tattoo still." I say dully as I step back, my fingers that had been on her lower back, dragging across the very spot, indicating I knew it's location, even if looking for her confirmation.

[Dominique]

Sometimes she was about as seductive as a rock. At least she thought so given she could recall enough instances where it could've and should've come in handy instead of the end result she was left with. It was cool. So she didn’t get the kiss. Ric was a tough one. He had that whole “I can’t be fucked with emotions vibe” going on. At least she was pretty sure it was something close to that. It was not a turn off by any means. She had enough bleeding heart champion syndrome in her past to last her several eternities. So the fact her body was in a nice firm hold wasn’t enough to send her scurrying. She welcomed it. It was about time he moved in a little closer. Nothing wrong with up close and personal as far as physical space went. The kicker was instead of a little tonsil hockey she got a hellacious bite instead. It left her mouth open until she moaned lightly without thinking. The blood went into the air and she shut down its source with a fast heal. Wasn’t he full of surprises.

HOPE and LESS held on to the back of his neck and a hip. Her fingers were itching to find skin beneath the pressure of their tips but he was saved by the material between them. Despite what she had been told about the whole feeding the already fanged she stood her ground while the suction of what felt like enough power to reach her C4 vertebrae took hold of her attention. Despite the signs of subtle weakness that she was all too familiar with being linked to the loss of a pint she still gave him his time to tap the generous vein that was giving him enough to tell her who her first grade teacher was. Or perhaps he was going to find out she was the one who carelessly started the fire on the roof of her grandfather’s garage. Anytime now he would deliver the verdict. Hopefully whatever he found out it wasn’t going to be too off putting. Like the time she cleaned her earrings at the very last minute with a toothbrush that was handy. Then discovered later after the party that it was ...well it doesn’t matter now but still not a cool thing to do.

The pull of a serious set of fangs from her neck said the moment finally arrived. Was she a loser? A sinner? A saint? No, she would bet money on the fact Ric would not be coming up with that. The cool glide of his tongue over the surface gave her reason to believe it wasn’t all that bad. Whatever he discovered, if he was in fact like her and able to read memories in blood, how bad could it be if he made a point to seal the wound? Her hands were easy in the release of where they had been on his body. Each one went to the edge of the table behind her and curled to support her. The brush of his arm across her side only registered for the sensation of his body that close and nothing more. That is until he revealed the existence of what she had never really gave thought to at that particular moment. The permanent marking from beneath her arm down her side and to the back of her lower hip that would identify her as a paladin.

“Kind of a confirmation you seem to have that ability to see memories.” She swallowed dryly looking at him. So what was she going to say? The truth. “Yes, I do. One of the catches in getting one. Seems it doesn’t wash off in the shower anymore than the rest of mine do.” Was this the big mood killer? She stayed put because where the hell else was she going to go? It just got far more interesting.

[Roderic]

I nod, but hike up her shirt just a little bit to get the visual confirmation. It's not that I find what Dominique says as discredible, it just seems like a whole premise I can't quite wrap my head around yet. I'm more of a tangible sort of learner; kinesthetic, I guess you could say. Tactile in all ways possible. I see it, but I don't stop there. My fingers go out to feel the area the tattoo is located at, and then I feel the other ones. Really, feel them. See if they are the same, or if they are different. Did it do something different to the skin? A different type of ink? Something was so special about it, because paladins supposedly seemed to love sporting these things. There are other tattoos I know about, have seen and touched, but due to clothing restrictions, I can only work with the things I can get at without having to take other articles of clothing off. I shouldn't have to touch too many tattoos anyways to notice if there was a difference or not in the things I was thinking about.

"I suspect not." I say, agreeing once again, my fingers on the area the paladin tattoo was at. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I don't really 'feel' it either, which is why I never paid that spot any mind over other ones. Other than noticing it was one of the few places on Dominique's body that wasn't tattooed. Or, so I thought. Seems that wasn't the exact truth. "So what does that mean if a paldin sees that, and knows you're not a paladin anymore?" I'm genuinely curious, because I suspect it wouldn't make someone happy; that someone being the paladin that saw the tattoo on the side of her body. "Blood thieves didn't really have that sort of thing. Nothing really distinguished us unless we open our mouths." I remember the fangs quite well, but since I didn't talk a lot back then it wasn't that big of a deal.

[Dominique]

Dominique glanced down and discovered the material of her shirt rising with the aid of his hand. Ric asks the question that she has the answer to, sort of. The travel of his fingers, the path that each takes confirms what he saw vividly and there is no mistaking he is pointing out what is indeed there. Even if his eyes cannot see it, he surely tasted it. What does it mean for her if a paladin identifies with it and knows her history of being turned?

“I got my *** handed to me?” It was far more than that but it was a start. “It means I will be expecting everything I used to dish out.” She remembered all too well and it was not anything she would choose to forget. “More so. Especially now.” She looked up at him abandoning her focus on his fingers. “I don’t hide it puposely and I take what comes because of it. It is all part of owning what I am. The mark is only part of it, though.”

It was deeper than the layers of flesh beneath his tactile search. It was close to her bones and she wasn’t sure if it was reachable or truly a matter of inches somewhere a little to the left sitting stagnant in her chest. She always said she had the heart of a paladin. It was the statement that seemed to get the closest to what she felt when she thought of it, of what she was. For the moment she left it unsaid. It wasn't anything that would matter if she did.

“I am the enemy. The very real risk to what they have vowed to defend and uphold. And obviously I was a piss poor paladin in the end.”

It was there. It wasn’t going away even when his fingers had drawn out the surface of it and reminded her just how much space it took on her petite body. What she said was made sense when she didn’t expand on who, what, where, when and why’s of the history she had from one extreme to the other. The details did not matter. She was no different than any other vampire in the eyes of a paladin. And what she was becoming in Ric's eyes didn't concern her a whole lot. Not as long as she was keeping it real and not trying to sell him on any favorable version of the events. She knew what denying the truth could cost. It was no longer affordable.

[Roderic]

I smirk when she states it just as it is. I had a feeling they wouldn't take so kind to the idea of an ex-paladin sporting their 'logo' after becoming a vampire. That's sort of like wearing a gang tattoo if you're able to get out, or the cuts of an old motorcycle club you've left or been booted from. You just don't do it.

Theoretically. not many people would probably see the tattoo unless she's running around in her bra and underwear, or a swimsuit...plus I hear the paladins aren't so heavy in numbers anymore. But...the risk is still there and while Dominique believes this is something to keep attached to herself, I feel the exact opposite. I no longer talk to most of my blood thief buddies, because I know they would want me to be their next meal ticket any and every chance they get, and I've evolved from human, to super human to not ever going to be human again.

My thumb drops from her, and so does Dominique's shirt as my hand finds a spot by my side again. "Haven't all paladins been piss poor paladins?" I question her as I turn around and glance at the things in my shop, as the wheels start spinning. "Not that I'm giving blood thieves much of a higher peddle stool to stand on. They've not exactly lasted, either." I say with a shake of my head before I chuckle twice, softly.

"What you are?" I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around this concept. What she is, is a vampire. What she was, was a paladin. "Let me ask you a question. You made a meal, let's say....spaghetti. You had left overs, so you wrap it up nice and neat and put it in your fridge. Your week gets busy, it gets pushed to the back of the fridge and soon you're eating out, eating something quick and easy. It gets lost in translation. You find it about two weeks later and it's mushy, slimy and flat out unidentifiable. You don't remember what it is. Do you still call it spaghetti?" I stop and look at Dominique, letting that sit in her head as I back up to another bench, move around it and press my palms flat to the surface.

"It's garbage, right? Or ****, or gross." Whatever adjective you want to call it before you toss it out." I grin wickedly as I think about the tools in my shop. "I think tonight is a good time to take out the garbage." I glance down to the waste basket at the side of the table, letting her think I was speaking about that garbage, but if she thought that, she couldn't be more wrong.

[Dominique]

Dark eyes follow Ric as he moves towards a bench that could be used for various tasks. None of which she invests a whole lot of thought into given the current topic at hand. There was no need to get distracted. He had her attention fully and for good reason. His question of what she is points out that perhaps she had worded it wrong after all. She was not claiming to be a paladin as she stood there. She was once a catholic, a virgin,a law abiding citizen and believe it or not tattoo free too. Now she was none of those. Time had changed that with events and experiences just like could be expected in any life lived. While he wrapped up his review she observed the position of his hands and felt as if she was in his work space being eyed for a whole new project that suddenly dawned on him. The inspiration she guessed was not to be found in the utility basket he glanced down at as if making a point. Not yet.

“I…” She paused briefly for the effect of making a point. “Know what I am.” She showed no hesitation and reducing the distance between them. It was not that she needed to be closer. She wanted to make sure she had his attention equally. “I was referring to what I was and the history that will not change no matter what. There is always a beginning, a middle and an end.” HOPE and LESS found the opposite side of the bench he was holding down. Mirroring their placement she nodded matter of fact.

As for all paladins being piss poor, well that was a stretch. She was no expert on their history but more than a few had to have been working it well or they wouldn’t have lasted long enough for her *** to get recruited. Some she had heard of were as old as some remote small hills in distant lands that were inaccessible to anyone without a cape or magic carpet. **** if she knew how to get there but she did know that at least one or two were still out there worth making mention of. It was no surprise that she was not one of them. She was sporting the wide ‘F’ for fail on her score card last she heard. It was what it was and is. However, she was not going so far as to identify herself as the mold covered mound of wtf in the back of a fridge.

“Is it really so simple as that?” Her fingers fanned out over the flat surface beneath as she asked. “To remove what is no longer needed, wanted or fits it’s original purpose and bag it up and toss it. If so…” She dipped her head just enough that her eyes were locking on his so there was no mistake in her challenge. “It could save some a lot of trouble and you are on to something, Ric."