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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?”

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.

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.

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.

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."