You put the lime in the coconut. [Dom]

[Cytherea]

It had been almost a week since the good Doctor and herself had spoke in person. A week without so much as a peep, a text here and there, but he was avoiding her like she carried the bubonic plague, well no. If she carried that he'd probably be around her more, his need to test her would have been piqued. A flurry of sleek hair helped rid her mind of these haunting thoughts. Not a moment she wasn't thinking of him, of how he thought, of what to do. It filled her with uncertainty, and a lot of guilt. It wasn't as if he wanted his wife to resurface once more, no, he'd seemed rather content in his new life, forgetful to the woman that had wrought such destruction upon his emotions. It was evident that the Doctor and she had unfinished business, though if it would ever be concluded was the question at had. He was elusive, like a shadow. And it was not easy to pin those.

No more, she commanded herself, her gaze finding the reflection once more. No, indeed, no more. Now she needed to have a moment of enjoyment, as little had been given since her return. Arguments, suspicion, a brief hello. Would it had killed a few people to give her a warm smile, inform her that she'd been missed a little, perhaps? As her mind mused once more, she applied a layer of shining burgundy to her lips, allowing the colour to help the morsels appear more fuller, not that much help was needed. The mane of thick hair had been styled, almost like a curtain of silk that cascaded down her spine like a waterfall. A dress, whilst modest, helped highlight each curve that littered her body, a deep green in colour. It helped to highlight the colour of her aurelian irises, which were framed by thick lashes lightly coated with mascara. Not much foundation was needed, a light pat of powder across her freckled dusted face. And that was that. Doc. Would he have complimented her upon seeing her visage? Or insulted her? Who knew with that man. But this wasn't for him, this was for herself. She needed to feel something more warm instead of the drowning emotions of sorrow and woe that seemed desperate to cling to her. Why had she come back?

Aurora slipped the heeled sandals onto her feet as she truly thought upon the question. Why indeed. For him. She missed him, dreadfully. A year had felt so much longer, but she'd left because he no longer wanted her. Had she thought his mind would change with time? No. Why would it. It was harrowing really. But enough of that, she thought, making sure to grab her purse. She left then, offering some kind words to Catherine on her way out.
There was only really one place she could go, that she knew of. Lancaster's.
And it did not disappoint. For a Saturday night it was bustling, heaving with patrons who were looking for something more than just alcohol. A sickening sight really, how these humans could easily throw themselves upon each other. But she managed to weave through the crowd until he came to the bar. Thankfully the bartender had remembered her as Elliot's childe. A shot, a strong one was what she needed. But then something caught her attention. It couldn't be. Was that.. the paladin that the Doctor had cheated on her with and then turned? Her lips twisted then, he body stiffening. But she recalled, this woman was innocent, it had been Doc who was in the wrong, yet she'd wanted her dead. Her lips twisted into a grimace. How had she asked that?

Swallowing her pride, she took the offered glass, a delightful flash of pearly white her response to the 'tender before she moved. Why not. Maybe that could recant stories of how Doc was a badass. She took the seat next to her, her smiled never vacating it's spot. ''You're Dominque, right? Doc's childe? I'm his wife.'' she said, offering a petite hand. She'd either take it, or freak out. Either way, Cyth could handle both situations.

[Dominique]

Attire

Dominique stared at the glass in front of her and saw nothing more reflecting in the Gran Patron Platinum Tequila than she did in the previous one that was emptied twenty minutes prior. She had no expectations but was increasingly open to surprises once the strength of the liquor began to work it’s magic. The shadow was relaxed as she did nothing to stand out from the other patrons. The curve of her hips were outlined with the navy blue dress that was sprinkled with white dots and random miniature flowers for its pattern. Her hair was long with casual curls falling down her chest and back. Within the space of the barstool she sat on in Lancaster’s her petite body was perched with her excessively inked arms and legs drawing the most attention if there was any at all. Mid-thigh down to her black ankle cut six inch heeled boots was a detailed canvas that told the stories she otherwise kept to herself.

The last time Dom wore a dress was to a funeral. She was not anticipating the need to be ready for another this particular night. It was as simple as the dress was there and she put it on. As her weight shifted to cross one leg over the other in an attempt to get comfortable she felt the pull of the white yoga shorts that clung to her beneath the skirting. Nothing would ever be predictable with the woman. Each layer would always be a bit off inside and out but a surprise none the less. That was always a good thing in her book. It was the type she was naturally drawn to. Sometimes painfully so.

The music was in effect and Dominique randomly entertained the beat with the infrequent bob of her head or a random lift of a shoulder. What was playing in the bar itself she couldn’t name but she was not deterred from enjoying it. She kept her eyes on the drink while working out its consumption ahead of time in her mind. The overhead music drowned out and soon there was always something playing in her mind to replace it. The Black Keys “My mind is ramblin’” gave her something to get into.

It was fitting because that is exactly what Dominique was trying to avoid as the curl of her fingers took possession of the glass and brought the clear rim to her lips. As the heat of the otherwise cool liquid spread out across the surface of her tongue she inhaled the scent of what she could not otherwise taste. This was how she appreciated consuming what most like her could not. It took time but she had found her palate was a ghost that would wake if she taught it to rely on her other senses to compensate. She was comfortably growing numb but was still aware that tomorrow night would be hell if she took on the challenge of a third drink. The Chulahoma album played on as the pleasure of the tequila stayed true to it’s course. It was a damn shame some were robbed of such.

The surprising sound of material gliding over the surface similar to what she was sitting on caught her attention and ‘Work Me’ was put on pause. The Black Keys were cool like that. They didn’t sweat the unexpected. The band faithfully rolled right along with her and took a break when she needed them to. Chocolate eyes as warm as the night air waiting outside drifted to the direction of the voice that offered a greeting. HOPE settled the glass in her hand down to the surface that wore a napkin to mark where it had been before. Doc’s wife appeared to be in the house.

The announcement had Dominique’s eyes taking in the fresh face with a dusting of angelic sprinkles. The features were nearly flawless in a complimenting frame of lush red hair that gave off its own warning as the lights above cast over it. The beauty made the first move by extending a confident hand between them. Dom’s lips lifted to the left side of her mouth as she was informed that her sire’s wife knew who she was. Interesting indeed. The subtle scent of tequila escaped her lips as they parted to extend the same courtesy to the one she had heard went by the name Cytherea. Her cool but healthy appearing hand closed around the one that belonged to Doc’s wife.

“Now this is a surprise, Cytherea.” Dominique looked towards the barkeeper and nodded as her gaze shot quick to the woman sitting beside her. “Allow me to buy you a drink.” A few things about Doc’s elusive and highly unpredictable dark shadow were known despite how guarded she was. She was hardly shy and bold at times to a fault. “Welcome to back and well…” The barkeeper slid the redhead a drink. Dominique winked at the server. “Welcome to Lancaster’s.”

With that said and done Dominique slowly released the cool hand she firmly greeted and went back to claiming her half full glass in front of her. The platinum whiskey was waiting and The Black Keys were about to fire it back up. Talk about smooth. What had been a random step into the bar turned out to be kismet at work instead. Just take a moment and imagine that.

[Cytherea]

Surprise splashed across her face like a vibrant hue upon a canvas, though, what was there to be surprised of? This was her husbands childe. Why would she not know who she was, or the name she was commonly known by. The answer would be, that she had expected Doc to bury any memory of her, forbid her name from ever passing his lips, in essence to pretend that she did not exist and that they had never bound in marriage.
So yes, surprise was the emotion that sprung forth, and in her mind, completely justified. After a moment, her composure was regained, a smile dancing along the lush swell of ruby painted lips, those depths of amber trained on the other now. ''I'm shocked you know of who I am, that must mean my husband has spoke of me?'' it was a statement laden with the question, curiosity grasping desperately at her conscious. Yes, she would like to know if he had. And to be exact, what he had said. Though she doubted such details would spill like the liquor from a bottle, she'd have to pry, or at least try.

When Dominque expressed the greeting, Cytherea felt a little of the tension riddling her body ease away, though this was no normal situation. Here she sat with her husbands progeny, the one that he had tormented, the one he'd promised to slay, after admitting that he had laid with her, though in all fairness, Dominque hadn't been a willing partner in that coupling. But instead of killing her, he'd turned her. Forcing Cytherea to relive the infidelity he'd committed each day the other walked this earth. If he had kept true to his promise, would it have truly made her feel vindicated? No.
Though now she was in the company of said female, feline akin eyes could not help but sweep over her visage before travelling the length of her body, scrutinising every aspect of her. Pleasing to the eyes, she could not deny. Though she doubted that was what had drawn Doc to her, the twisted mind of that man was much more methodical that others understood. So now she was struck with a sense of wanting to unravel what her husband had seen, what had prompted such a need to destroy the one before her.

Noting the drink that the Dominque was now draining, and that the glass lingered with the last droplets of liquid, Cytherea gave a nod to the bartender, thankful that she was recognised. After all, her sire did own the bar, that held some privileges at least. The gesture had been for the new round of drinks, which soon appeared before the Allurist and Shadow. ''I think drinks should be in order, after all, it's not every day you sit with the female your husband raped and sired, and seem to be having a pleasant encounter.'' she voiced. It was valid in her mind, Dominque had seemed welcoming, not staged, nor instantly guarded, this didn't seem like a game. Which she was thankful for. The words she had allowed to grace the others ears held no malice, they weren't intended to wound or be offensive, it was a statement that they would both understand. Yet she continued, golden irises that were decorated with a freckled of coffee, just like her cheeks, found the glass of tequila, her mind wandering, and her mouth voicing the thoughts. ''I assume you are on good terms with the Doctor, I mean, how else would you know of me. I hope he hasn't tried anything like that since.'' Though Doc had swore to her once before it would never occur again, she'd left, and in doing so, that promise became void.

For all she knew, he could have cavorted with the woman opposite her, but she couldn't bring herself to really think that of the man she'd chosen to spend the rest of her life with, even if he didn't want to spend it with her. No. She didn't believe Doc had engaged in such activities since the last revelation. So, those thoughts were buried as the rim of the glass brushed along the swell of her bottom lip, before the contents slithered down her throat like a path of fire and then settling into the pit of her stomach, causing a roar of flames to erupt along her nervous system. It was strong, and it provoked a cringe of disgust to decorate her face. Normally she would choose something she enjoyed, but tonight was about the prospect of losing her mind to the sensation that being inebriated could only bring. And she intended to bring Dominque along for that ride.

[Dominique]

Dominique welcomed the slow building burn of the cool liquor that ignited a trail as it glided down her throat. All of it was to be expected from a tequila worth passing her lips. It took that chill away from the inside and worked its way out to the layers of her exposed skin. Her mind used it and put it into action. Gradually she sent that sensation everywhere that the fluid couldn’t otherwise reach to create it’s magic. Magic that was ninety percent in her head and a savory ten percent result of the consuming she was currently applying herself to. The power and energy of a beautiful mind was a resource that she refused to waste.

The Black Keys were still playing as the woman who had slipped up beside her to have a seat began speaking once again. The voice was sweet and nearly disarming with its delicate purr like tone. It reminded her of a kitten coming up close and vibrating for attention. She noticed no lines or flaws at the flesh that covered Cytherea’s. If she had marks she covered them so well.

Dominique allowed her wide, nearly black eyes to drift to the corner as she turned down the music that played faithfully in her head. The sound of Cytherea’s voice came through despite the continuous deep, soul kicking rhythm of the blues legacy that only Junior Kimbrough could leave behind. The shadow’s unpainted lips were wet as she processed then swallowed the words that filled the air between them. She once again wore that unpredictable half smile that would be expected on a cat that finally just found it’s way into the forbidden cage and was within claws reach of the unguarded canary.

It was getting hot. Just like she liked it. The steamy effects of the alcohol and the soul purging blues climbed up her spine. Like a two headed predator all its own traveling with a serpentine slither the two moved beneath the permanent ink leopard spots and clung to the undiscovered spot at the nape of her neck. It could go fully to her head, strike quickly and consume her. Something about the presence of the fiery redhead beside her gave a warning in itself that such would likely happen. For the time being it was hanging on stand by and wouldn’t be so easy to shake. She inhaled over the glass in her hand and pulled in the sweet scent of a female possibly in possession of wickedness and secrets to be told. That sweet scent was haloed by the complementary second hand spent smoke that clung to infrequent patrons clothing that strolled by.

There they were the least likely pair to be found. Two promising females with blood so cool but sorely underestimated stored in the space of their never aging bodies. Like birds on a wire they were gracefully perched on the barstools at a counter that Dominique had never set herself at before. The slide of her tongue wiped the small beaded traces left behind of the dependable Gran Patron from the soft surface of her lips. If she was to be rattled it wasn’t showing. She watched the colorful mouth next to her continue to shape and release words to feed her mind.

The music buzzed around their messages like a persistent bee not giving up on its chosen task at hand. Husband, raped and sired. Each was a tight secret bud of potential awareness that the woman was offering up. The volume of the smooth beats lowered in her head until each bloomed into a visual that sent her searching for some fragment of a stored memory to be paired with for a final confirmation.

Dominique felt a gradual drop of HOPE that held the glass that fueled her current mood. She was pleasantly relaxed and feeling good. Far too good to give in to the haunting history that may be new to the woman beside her but old hat to the shadow that lived it. What shards of the past that were hers to recall and claim came from all different directions as she uncrossed her leg from the top of the other beneath it and placed both heels of her ankle boots on the small bar at the base of the stool to rest. Each memory landed spot on in it’s place. The result of what was otherwise broken ultimately fit together so perfectly in final detail that it would seem nothing was missing at all from the collage of the last two years of her life.

Dominique could feel the chill of what was there two years ago sprinkle across her face. It was snowing and it was New Year’s Eve. Each flake landed into a slide leaving a tickle down the bridge of her nose and the firm peak of each cheek. It’s perfect natural design was lost by the time it found the warmth of her neck. The droplets ignored the colorful design at the woman's throat and chose to race to the flesh beneath her jacket. Her heart was beating fast. Faster than it probably ever had before. She asked him if he could see what she was looking at. She provided a live feed so he could watch. Of course he could. No massive ball of confetti dropping in Times Square could compare to the explosion and visual of the man’s roof to his house shooting towards the heavens. It was costly. An act she could barely afford to execute. What happened next sealed her fate for an eternity.

Doc ultimately took what never would have been given freely. He had done it before he ever had set his eyes or hands on her and likely would again. He was a vampire and a ruthless cold one at that. There was no secret to that and no dispute. So why would it be a surprise to anyone that she was sitting there minus a pulse next to his questioning wife? Then again, she played her part in all the history just as well. Maybe too well. She took his house, his cat, sent his black blood into the air, threatened him, promised him pain as well as loss and even hunted him in return with a vengeance. Karma was always a ***** in the end. Nietzsche summed that whole year up of the bloody war between them and drove the point home with a quote like it was a hammer crashing down on the head of the proverbial nail. Something about if you fight with a monster use care not to become one yourself. The paladin learned how right Friedrich was. It took another year after the fact for her to accept it.

“Of course I know of you.” The words were chosen carefully. Dominique had a head full of reasons she picked each one that she delivered while looking to Cytherea with a darkening set of eyes. She found the amber pools that the man in question must have drowned in the beauty of more than once or twice. “What kind of husband would he be if he did not mention his wife?”

There was a nice fuzzy sensation caressing those otherwise sharp edges forming in her thoughts. She wondered how much the woman had been drinking before she slid up on the seat next to her. More than the two glasses of tequila she had for sure.

“You would have to ask him and whoever else what he has tried more than once.” The glass in Dominique’s hand moved slowly with a constant rotation courtesy of HOPE’s subtle movements. “The terms we are on are understood. And how about you two?” She paused as the glass in her hand froze and went up stopping short of her lips as if she had all the time in the world to hear what the woman had to say. She was equally curious now that she was finally engaging in conversation with the one that was bound until the end of time to the shadow who killed her. If that didn’t say that the beauty next to her was Doc’s biggest fan nothing else possibly could. “Things still in that honeymoon phase?”

Dominique allowed the rim of the glass to meet her lips and welcomed another flow of the clear liquid to wet her whistle. Not that she was planning on using it. Not yet anyways. A swallow was followed by addressing what she was sure was confusion on Cytherea’s part.

“As for rape…”

Dominique paused because she couldn’t even think up such a scenario in her head. He was a ******** with no mercy to be sure but that didn’t happen. Not with her. She remembered everything. What did happen inspired her to build a bridge, get over it and move on. This woman sounded less than secure in her union and had to be confused as hell about who she was currently speaking to or about. Perhaps tonight they could help eachother out. Build and mend. The music was returning. ‘Meet me in the City’ chased away all that made absolutely no sense to her. The feel good vibe was in full effect as the rhythm started up.

“What a bizarre thing to say.” She breathed out softly before taking another sip from the glass in her hand.