Halloween 2016-(Invite)

[Dominique]

Shop Music

Dominique had a few firsts in the last year. More than a few in fact. It had been a wild and adventurous twelve months and that in itself was an understatement. She had been to hell and back as well as a few other places including most recently the Congo. Fall found it’s way over Vita Bella while this took place and the month of October finally rolled in. It reminded her of many things that had came and went. Yet there she was stronger than ever and ready for more. Changes in the color of the leaves were not the only to be seen. The shadow knew she was no different than the long standing oaks and maples that towered over her property.

Surprises. Who didn’t like them on occasion? Wasn’t Halloween considered such? Dominique thought so. Halloween had been predictably the night she would cape up to represent her inner Batgirl. Even that was about to change. She locked the doors of her garage and went to work on what would be in the very least memorable for one in particular. All the supplies had been easy enough to gather and the time was there to make it happen. She took advantage of both and grabbed her welders mask that just so happened to be custom detailed with Hello Kitty giving two middle fingers up in the midst of flames.

With the shop playlist set to recycle she sectioned out the polished up iron. The plan was simple. The former devout catholic was for the first time venturing into what had proven to be a invitation to pain in her past experiences. Her devotion to the faith was always a bit questionable at bes given some of the **** she pulled. It was proving to be a dose of Karma and eventually came back to bite her in the *** on many levels. She couldn’t put her hands on so much as a crucifix without being left with a blister or worse. The nuns gave her the creeps. Bibles were a no go and she had no use for one anyhow. Yet there she was welding, cutting and shaping away an iron form of what had been a symbol that her grandmother had held sacred and tried to instill in Jane Doe as well. HOPE and LESS tackled the labor intensive project with focus and once the spine of her idea was complete and cooling over the steel workbench beneath she stepped back and removed the mask to appreciate it.The cross had a purpose and so far she was wound free. Maybe this was a sign of change too?

Next item up was a less tideous prospect and rather relaxing. A circle was distinguishable within an hour of HOPE and LESS heating, twisting, bending and forcing the bits of steel into the right size. Adorning the developing crown was a pattern of sharp thorns that shimmered beneath the shop lighting when she raised the final product towards her head. Once it was on her head she could feel the poking into her scalp and winced. She tapped firmly on the top then nodded in satisfaction. It would holdonce it was set into flesh with her handy mallet. Final touches involved the shackles that would hold in place what would be nailed down. Just in case the one she hadin mind had any last minute ideas.

Two hours later Dominique stood with a sheer layering of white fabric draped over her and pulled over that a blue covering that hid the bits and pieces that if seen in public could be grounds for twenty-one or more with the annoying badges and uniforms. It was time to send a text to the one who was about to become her own personal Jesus to her first performance of Mary Magdalene. Mary 2.0 with a serious twist or at least a rather dark and creative one.

-Party starts soon. I got us covered. All you have to do is drop what you are doing. This isyour boarding pass. Take off is in five minutes and counting.-

Once that was sent she tied the rope around her waist and pulled the hood over her head. A single piece of white cloth was lifted from the pile ofscrap metal she no longer needed. Once it was unfolded she eyed it to be sure. It was proving to be enough to cover what was needed. Two minutes left and then he would arrive. And no doubt be surprised.

[Roderic]

We have been back from the Congo for less than twenty-four hours, but as I promised Kaelyn, we would be back in time for the Halloween party. I was on the fence about it, only because I don't like parties. I like avoiding them, but Dominique promised me a good time, and I knew what that meant. For most people a good time indicated positive feelings and social norms, like laughing, drinking, smiling and probably dancing. For us, a good time meant something completely different.

I'm catching up on things that I've seemed to miss while being gone; something Julby told me to check out and decide to just leave it be. Things seem to be taken care of. Besides, tonight was about the party. My phone buzzes and 'new message' lights up over the google chrome application I was using. It can only be one of five people tops, and I'm not counting on it being Doc, or Velveteen. I don't think anyone knows we're back yet, not that I went around telling people I was away either. I had posted something up in Hawthorne on short notice, but I don't think that got many second glances. Maybe people are getting used to me being away. Dominique and I have traveled around a bit.

I read the message and then fight back a cringe. Five minutes. I look at the clock above me and sure enough. Five minutes. I climb up on the desk and then yank the thing off the wall. I toss it in the garbage can and then wipe my hands on my jeans. Now, things are starting to feel right again. She could have given me a two minute warning and that would have suffice. Five was unnecessary. Women probably need that many minutes, at least. More than likely, ten.

I shove everything I was working on in a desk drawer and then take a glance around the shop. The door. I move to it and make sure it's locked, by checking the lock twice. On the second clicking of the lock, I nod and then survey the rest of the shop. Everything appeared fine and was in order. Not that I get much time to think about it, because before I know it the world around me if shifting, and the very plain and almost surgical type appearance that was my shop is replaced with a little more color. In the new location is my girl and I give her a lazy grin as I look her over.

I honestly wasn't sure if I believed her suggestion or not when Dominique first stated it. It seemed almost impossible, but here she was as Mary whatsherface. Was she really Jesus' whore? Wasn't that the rumor? I seem to recall something like that, but only vaguely. Which only proved my anti-Jesus stance. If they guy was so holy, what's he doing with a whore? My eyes move to the large metal 'cross' and I just blink. Dominique is going all out this year, it seemed. Not holding back anything. "We're really doing this." It might have been said as a question, but my tone implies it's a statement. I have no questions that we're going to go through with this, but call me a skeptic. Is it possible to carry it off?

"Where's my...costume?" I struggle with finding the word, because I've only worn a costume maybe, five times of my own free will. I hate them, much like I hate aliases. I want people to know who I am when I come for them. I shrug out of my leather coat and set it on a table, my eyes on my Mary. How were we going to pull this off? It would take more than some miracle, that much I knew.

[Dominique]

Dominique was not going to be squeezing her body into the skin tight latex Batgirl costume this year. It would be a first. Since she could remember she had always been dressing up as her inner superhero for Halloween. It had evolved over the years from the typical last minute homemade cape to a little more detail with a hood. Gradually she incorporated the yellow utility batbelt and ultimately went to the body casing of latex.

A grin formed on her unpainted lips. Of course they were really going to do this. How could he question her intentions with a Cubby size iron cross in the room and her dressed as Jesus’ hot pocket. While he shrugged out of his leather coat he was asking the right question. She tilted her head a little to the left while HOPE and LESS moved the heavy iron prop allowing it to slide off the table and rest against the nearby wall. Stepping back left her meager attire flowing in the wake of her movements. The cross stayed where it was placed and proved to be as sturdy as she had in mind when designing it.

“Good questions and it is your lucky night because I got the answers right here.”

HOPE waved the portion of white cloth in one hand like a flag of truce or surrender. Someone certainly had to say something at some point about if the flag fits. And she was familiar enough with the one she was eyeing to know how much flag it would take to conceal what he had to cover. Tossing the fabric to rest over her right shoulder freed-up her hands to step in and help relieve him of his clothes one button and zipper at a time.

Of course it was a tempting process as the layers of material he was wearing ended up keeping his jacket company. All of it had her thinking more than she should given she was putting her hands on the son of god. It was reassuring to remember once he was bare as the day he was born that she was admittedly a world class sinner and she was going to own it hard on her way to hell. If Ric played his cards right he just may end up being what she would be riding on her way there.

“So, now comes the costume.” She reached over her shoulder and held up the white cloth that would wrap his waist. “This is the part that will be the most pleasant in its application.” Her eyes danced from his own to the table where LESS gave the metal spiked crown of thorns fashioned for him specifically a casual spin. Every detail of the props had him in mind. “All of your measurements were taken into consideration and I feel confident that you will find your temporary throne of sorts rather accommodating given the fact you will be hanging around on it for several hours.” She leaned over and moved the three iron spikes closer to her as well as the mallet. “No worries. I got you while you are hanging out trying to be holy. However, just so you know, I won’t be washing your feet. Feet is not my thing even if it was Mary Mag’s.”

[Roderic]

It seems we're well and truly going ahead with it. Dominique has managed to craft something I didn't think she could. Not because she's incompetent, but because of time constraints and how impossible it might be to get the items she needs. I'm impressed and remind myself that if Dominique gets an idea in her head, she'll deliver, even if it's the impossible and against all odds.

My head tips back to look at the cross she designed and all its splendor. I'd never be able to do something on such a grand scale. All my work at best, is four or five feet long or tall. I think it would be more complex to pull off something that large, because you have to be more detailed with the proportions. Can't just slap some things together and call it a day-not that you could with my work. It just seems to me that math has to be more on your side for something she did. For me, everything is already in its place due to genetics and living conditions. She made her creation from scratch. Forged together with some sort of high heat source, time and physical labor. I've always appreciated that Dominique is a hands on sort of individual.; in more ways than one. This causes me to grin; smirk.

My eyes move off the large metal creation she's wielded together and to the white scrap. I look at it with some skepticism. Here she is covered from shoulders to foot and she holds up something I'd use to wax my bike with on a summer night. "I think Jesus wore more than that. I'm not overly religious, but any picture I've seen of him, the guy was wearing sandals and something much like you." She's either ignoring me, or she has something else up her sleeve that will be revealed to me soon. My leather cut is removed from my shoulders after she unzips it, followed by my shirt that had been pulled over my head.

I wasn't always not religious. The opposite in fact. Before my parents split, we went to church every Sunday. I don't remember much, other than the story about Adam and Eve (mostly because that whole story would have ended with the snake being mounted somewhere had I been Adam), something about the end of the world. Back in the ancient times when people were turning into piles of ash, there were burning bushes, first borns being sacrificed, real diabolical **** like that. Mostly because it was the most nefarious and interesting thing going on in the Bible. But then our family split and Nate's dad had a new family to bring to church. I lost my faith in most people; from God, down to my dad that year.

Soon, I'm naked and she's making me some Tarzan type outfit, minus the club. And even he wore more, I think. She's done and she's got spikes and my skeptical look doesn't fade. "I don't think this is going to work. I'm no math wizard, Dom, but I think I probably weigh more than Jesus." I never got the impression Jesus ate a lot, or was a hunter, so I imagine he was scrawny for a dude. I'm not bothered that she's going to drive some stakes through me; hell, we've done far worse than that. I just don't know how long I can hang out on the thing. "Didn't he have a spear shoved through him?" I ask, wondering how hardcore we're going here. "Might need to offset my weight by doing that. Somehow." I suggest with a shrug before moving to the cross. This was going to be one hell of a ride, if we managed to pull it off physically.

[Dominique]

“Not when he was supposedly nailed down for the final stretch of his world tour.” She commented on Ric’s claim that the images he had seen of JC were of the dude walking around covered neck to ankle in robes and sandals. “You missed a few, Cubby. Speedos weren’t quite on the sporting store shelves yet so they did the southern toga. Pretty sure there was a name for this little number…” She gave the garment some thought while wrapping his bare hips. HOPE and LESS did a dance back and forth as the white cloth finally went between up and down and bagging him up. “Loincloth? Hell if I know. Pretty lame if you ask me that I have to keep my tits covered but you don’t.” She tugged at the cloth in her hands to get it to give a little more where it was needing to. “Just give it time. Pretty sure that will eventually change.” When she was finally done she stepped back and eyed her handiwork. A slow nod began while her warm chocolate hues looked him over. “Trick or Treat. Your JC is going to be the hit of the party and this little Mary is gonna hit it so damn hard.”

Dominique at one time would have been waiting for the proverbial lightning bolt to toast her healthy appearing *** for saying such a thing. Truth be told after everything she had been through she knew it wouldn’t be happening. It never happened when her grandmother swore up and down it would and it didn’t when she truly felt like she deserved it so enough believing in what didn’t exist. Ric is asking about a spear being shoved through to support his weight. She was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be falling off when she got him on the cross. But if he was still that into having something drilled into him to keep him fixed nice and tight then she was all for it. He certainly wouldn’t have to ask twice.

“I took all of that into account when I whipped this up just for you. No details were spared.” Dominique nods to the cross as she guides him to the shop stool that she taps into place at the base. Another quick dip of her head to the right of her was the signal she was waiting for him to step up. “C’mon don’t be shy.” HOPE gripped the cold iron and gave it a few pats of appreciation. “Trust me. You will be in great hands.” A slow smirk formed on her lips. “But you already know that.”

The clinking of what was all too easy to tell echoed as she moved around. The chains were in her hands as she pulled them over her shoulder and left them to dangle for the time being. While the weight of them seemed to anchor her that much more to the shop floor beneath her the palms of her hands found Ric’s wrists one at a time. With the click of iron shackles each was adorned with the immobilizing lock down that just so happened to have half inch inner spikes sinking into his flesh as the final click and crank of the lock expressed small clouds of shadow’s blood into the air around his hands. Her brows bounced up and down briefly in apparent enjoyment of what she was witnessing. She leaned in to his right hand and blew a cool stream of air at the black beads sending them towards his shoulder for proof he was locked in that tight.

“See, nothing to worry about.”

Dom winked and without warning her right foot kicked the shop stool out from under his feet sending it rolling out of reach. Two iron spikes in her hands made their presence known as she tucked each in the meager belt around her waist. Once the head of each stopped their weight from sliding through HOPE and LESS pulled the iron masterpiece Ric was hanging from across the floor. A little maneuvering with a shift to the right then a little more to the left had a sandwiching effect at the base of the cross between two adjustable shop tables. Like a gunslinger stepping out into the main street just after sundown each hand gripped the head of each spike and pulled them out while he watched.

“If those shackles aren’t enough to make you feel the part I figured you would feel something was missing if I didn’t add these too.”

With a stretch to grab the mallet on the table to the left she hopped up on the hard surface and lined the first of the two spikes in the center of his wrist. A single glance to the back side of the same area of the cross confirmed that the spike size hole was exactly where she was aiming for. Facing him once again the mallet went back while LESS held the spike in place. A few loud clinking sound of the mallet whacking it in place left the air clouded with more darkness that was soon waved around as she moved to the other table with a ballet worthy leap. A couple more cracks of the tool in her right hand sent the second spike in it’s designated place.

“Now we know what is next.” She announced as she hopped down and looked up at him then down to his feet. “If you still feel something is lacking after your feet are in place then I can hook you up in the middle.” Her gaze danced around the options of where it would work. “I see so many possibilities. But first it is time to fasten the rest of your fine self down.” A third spike came out of nowhere and the placing of his feet took little time. The sounds of the mallet at work against its iron head said the job was nearly done.

[Roderic]

I listen to Dominique plead her case about showing her boobs in public and then shrug my shoulders. I personally wouldn't care if she wanted to show them off, they're hers to do with what she wants. I'm confident if someone tried to touch them or gawked at them too long, she would remind them in her own special way to not try, or do that again. What I do care about, is that she's comparing what I have (or don't have) in this case, with what she has. She's anatomically incorrect. "They're called pectorals. What us guys have." I tell her with two firm nods then let her manipulate me how she needs to. I'm almost thinking it's not going to be able to be pulled off with as much finesse and ease as she believes.

I look down at the cloth she dubs a 'loincloth,' after being ushered to a stool in front of the cross she made. Toga seems almost appropriate, but then so does loincloth. But they aren't the right word, I believe. I'll research it some later. I'm debating this stupid cloth tied around my waist when the first spike drives through my wrist by the arm restraint. I glare down at Dominique as I see strings of black fluttered up in the air and into the disappear between us. A second one goes around my other wrist and I shake my head. I'm still doubtful at my weight, versus being dragged around for a handful of hours. It's simple physics for me. A person, even a vampire could only hold their weight for so long.

But, she reveals another surprise when another spike appears from no where. The feet. Right. I brace myself for what's about to come, and then growl when she hammers the thing at right about the same spot Jesus had his put in. "Son-of-a-" I grit my teeth together and rattle my arms around, trying to break free from one of the spikes. What I wouldn't give to be able to touch Dominique right now. I bet she knows it too. An offer is made, alleviating my concerns of being able to be hoisted around successfully like a Jesus pinata the rest of the night. I lean back on the cross, whipping my head back to keep the dark strands of my own hair out of my eyes. "Whatever you think is best, Dom." I tell her, before waving a hand in my direction. More like rolling it in my direction. "Kiss for good luck?" I ask her, with a smirk on my lips.

[Dominique]

Dominique barely registers the correction Ric makes on his pectorals. They are his so he can call them whatever he wants. She gets to eye him while he dangles like a slab of some seriously restricted meat. Usually this wouldn’t exactly be her thing. Fact was that it didn’t get her all hot bothered looking art or statues of JC doing his time out when she was growing up. But Ric is getting some extra focus from her and she is finding it increasingly difficult not to admire him. Something tells her she isn’t alone.

Dom ponders the parts of this he could be getting into. The element of surprise is always a winner. He likes them, doesn’t avoid them. A little pain to be had while crossing over those lines some wouldn’t dream could be a hidden bonus. The bleeding under extreme and unconventional restriction is proving to be stimulating. At least it was to her. Even if it could be like moving a mountain to shake his world the fact she actually pulled it off and put him there had to earn her at the very least a small rise. Right? And as with all really inappropriate and twisted scenarios it had to start somewhere. Both had been at it enough to know which of the above to apply and when.

“Where?”

She found his smirk contagious for many reasons. All of them she was giving serious thought to while she asked. Sandaled steps had her back in front of him and eyeing the shape of his toes. They were attached to feet which would never be her thing. Not even his. At least he clipped his toenails. She would give him that much. Anyone who didn't needed the bony centered balls of flesh chopped off altogether. Her dark naturally shaped brow arched as her eyes made their way upward ever so slowly. So much to enjoy along the way so she took her time.

“Looking great but we forgot something. Can’t forget that whipping.” As if she somehow mastered the art of sleight of hand she suddenly produced a rather impressive yet concerning metal barbed whip. As it uncoiled and lifted into the air with the roll then sharp snap of her wrist she grinned a little more than he was. “Where do you want that first kiss to land? Hmmm?” The clink and hiss of air being sliced filled the space between them.

[Roderic]

I'm not going to admit this to Dominique, but I'm not sure I'll be able to 'hang' up here for more than a few hours without my limbs being ripped off. Which is fine, they'll grow back, but it might ruin her night. I can only hold my own very dead weight for so long. I'm not some weakling, but I know my boundaries too. Maybe the party will suck and we'll decide to ditch early for some reason. Chances are it will suck, just because I hate parties. Correction. I loathe them. I typically attend events and hang outside against walls and in corners. I don't want to, or like to be the center of attention. Hell, I don't really want to celebrate anything. Parties are pointless. Birthday parties=yay! You're getting one year closer to once again shitting in your own pants. Marriage parties=yay! You now have to share half the **** you worked hard on getting with someone who has excessive mood swings. Retirement parties=Yay! Enjoy your last few shitty lives on earth before you **** yourself and die! Really, there's no up side to a party. I don't like beer, I don't like cake and I don't like drugs, dancing, music. I just don't like parties.

But, we're going. I don't mind Kaelyn. And Dom really likes her. Seems so anyways. I should ask and probably would have, had she not asked me where she should kiss me for good luck. My eyes travel downwards to what's starting to make the loincloth a little taut in some areas and shrug my shoulders. "Use your imagination." I tell her, still grinning from ear to ear. And before I know it, she's pulling out something that looks like it's used for some kinky crap I saw online once when I first learned how to use the internet and got a 'pop-up window,' and my grin falters just a little. I listen to what she has to say and raise a skeptical brow. Two, in fact. "Is that true?" I almost want to tell her to pull one of those Christian Mythology books out and show me where it says the main character was whipped and done all these other things to, because part of me wonders if it's true, or if this is just something she's doing because she's enjoying it. I can't blame her if it's the latter.

"Wherever you want. Do your worse." I tell her through gritted teeth as my hands find the edges of the cross and pull up my shoulders. I'm not going to make it an hour, at this rate, so it might be time to express some mild concerns. "How are we going to get there? Can't just waltz down the street." I tell her, watching Dominique test out her swinging arm with some whip she clearly made. "Or is it going to be a 'miracle?' I ask, the thick tone of sarcasm dripping from my tongue as I shift my weight to the left a little bit, as I try to re-position and find a new way to balance my weight.

[Dominique]

Dominique figured there were still a few things that Ric had to learn about her. If she had an idea, especially one with such detail, certainly she had planned for how she was going to get him and the work of iron art on his back to where they were supposed to be heading. After all that was the purpose of the whole get up they both were wearing. At least it was when she came up with it weeks prior. Summoning would cover the risk of detection on the streets. However things were sort of changing gears as she eyed him skin and bone close to what her hands created for him. It was rather moving in ways she had not quite expected. She watches his eyebrows pop up and something similar to a lightbulb goes off as well as a few fireworks in the area’s where she never felt so strongly for the visual of JC. She licked her lips to cool off and perhaps buy some spare seconds to admire what she whipped up.

The weight of the barbed whip in her hand seemed lighter the more she considered her options for the evening ahead. He wanted her worst. Another thing they had in common. Ric and her were always asking for it. Most, if given the choice ahead of time, wanted the best out of someone. No surprises, no rough spots or sharp edges. Where was the challenge and adventure in that? That was like choosing to watch a documentary on Disneyworld instead of hitting it ride by ride. It was safe and it was ******* boring. One thing she never experienced with Cubby. Boring, or safe or the very best. Despite how it could sound to some it was the highest compliment to the one who could take what she had to give and return it in spades. All of it was confirmation things between them were as good as it could ever get for her with anyone at all.

“I have one hell of an imagination.” She was imagining they never made it out the door and said **** all to the party they were invited to.

Ask and ye shall receive came to mind. That was the motivation as her petite healthy appearing and heavily inked hand felt the sharp spikes drag through her nearly closed fingers. The pricks of the points compromised the flesh beneath and soon small drops of shadow floated between them. Ric was going to get it and so much more. And with that the dance of silver began with the sound of air being divided with a sudden crack. What came next was not fit for general viewing. Gradually the seconds bled into minutes as they were all but absorbed into the obsidian cloud that formed and predictably disolved around them with each additional strike. The scent she truly knew and savored of him found its way to her skin, clinging briefly in cool wet beads on her lips. The energy of her continuous swing had her nearly lost in the momentum it provided. In thought she was less on her feet and more the whip, the barbed points that bit his flesh and tore it open. Under his skin she was getting and closer to the part of him that took such extremes to reach. She wanted in there more and more every time she got that close.

“Trick or treat, Ric?”

It was a rather simple question that required no answer from him. She had plans and the opportunity to make them happen blossomed tenfold. The whip struck the side of the cross next to his neck and curled around. With the agility and skill she possessed she pounced forward and took hold with her free hand of where the barbed whip set around his neck and mass of iron beam behind him supporting him. The cloth between them shifted in a colorful contrast from the black that stained it briefly before once more returning to it’s original hue.

[Roderic]

If anyone knows about the Jesus guy, it would be Dominique. I don't distrust her, I'm sure everything she's told me and everything she's done and wants to do, is true. But, I'm also sure she's getting great pleasure in this, so where does the truth start and desire end? I decide it doesn't matter, because she knows that whatever she does to me, she'll be getting back when Dominique least expects it. So, if she wants to nail me to the cross, go ahead. Set some thorns on my head, that's fine too. If she wants to rip my skin from my bones, it's all good. And I grin, to let her know that too.

It's not that I don't feel pain. I do. I know whatever she's got in store for me is going to hurt like hell. But no pain, no gain, in my mind. She'll have her fun, and at some point I'll get mine. I just have to endure it for now and get off this damn cross first. That'll have to wait until after the party though. Dominique went to all this trouble...

As I'm thinking of all the things I could do, and should do to Dominique, I feel the first piercing of metal into the side of my body from the toy she created herself. It rips into my flesh, leaving little bite marks of five on my skin. I growl at the open wounds in an unsatisfactory grunt, my dark eyes flicking up to her. That better not be the end of it, because I'll feel more rage than pain and pull my *** off this cross sooner than later. Play time done. She doesn't disappoint. More glints of silver catch the corner of my eye before it strikes other parts of my skin, flesh and black blood are pulled from my body. I tense then and snarl at her, my gaze switching to my left wrist. I'm almost positive I can get out of here, even if it leaves a big giant hole in both my wrists. I close my hand against my palm and let my finger tips graze against the metal spikes. It will be impossible for me to pull them out, so this will take some creativity. My body jerks as yet another few spikes come slapping against me. A few more strikes and I'm almost positive there's not much left to the superficial lairs of skin on my torso. Not that I needed it much tonight. Or any night, come to think of it. If only the shadows didn't give me away. That was the only real problem to any and all injuries sustained by someone of my path.

Suddenly, the cool, sharp kiss of metal perforates into my neck and burrows down inside of it the skin and muscles there. She's on me like a ******* spider monkey, only feeling her and not seeing her until she's in my face. There's too much 'blood' floating around in the air around me to see anything. She asks me a question, and my eyes narrow as my teeth grit together. While she's distracted up top in all sorts of way, trying to distract me (and damn well nearly winning that battle), I slowly pull my left foot from the base of the man made cross, the stake not letting up. I might damn well lose my feet tonight, but I'll be damned if I'm staying here anymore. It's time to turn the tables, on Dominique. After a few yanks, I realize something. My feet are stuck and not going anywhere, so screw it. I change tactics and go for just getting a wrist free from one of the stakes. "Not a fan of Jesus or Halloween, as you know." I tell Dominique through gritted teeth, aiming for more time and a distraction. "But, becoming a fan of the latter." I admit, because no matter if this was a trick, or a treat, I can honestly admit that I'm enjoying myself in more ways than one. And she knows it too.

I lean forward and plant my lips on hers, for a brief second, before leaning back and chuckling. "Treats have never been my thing either." I say as my only free wrist comes out and clamps around her throat. "Going to have to go with trick." I say as my fingers press deep into her skin, before black claws burrow through her neck and come out the other side. She doesn't need to breath, so it's not like I've done any real damage...except maybe get lucky and hit her vocal chords. One could hope. With her secured to me and my claws, we're both gone in less than a blink of two eyes, the loincloth fluttering down to the ground as there was nothing remaining to hold it in place.