Vendetta smiled indulgent, eyes an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of jewels... shimmer of amethyst at times, emerald at others, golden amber others still- as they danced in the night sky, light and dark swirling about. She observed him calming Cheshire, having forgotten the minute detail that cats may not like the sky.
Easily she fell into his embrace, fitting nicely within. When he asked who she was, she merely kept her lacquered smile, contemplating several answers. At length, she finally chose an eloquent reply: "Who am I, you ask? Who is but the form following the function of what intersecting with when, and what I am is a Lady in the now- one who wears a thousand masks, a thousand times a thousand facades." She took another spin, before going on.
"I find completion in masks, lacquers and personas- dramatic and romantic alike; or I may simply be so many shards of a soul. It's also said by many there lies no flesh or blood beneath this surface, only shadows. I let the individual decide. As for what I find myself? Well... That is difficult to ascertain. You wear masks for so long, you forget who you were beneath them."
She let the words sink in, regarding the other point of inquiry that of recent time passed his lips. "Artists use lies, to tell the truth. I may have created a lie- because you believe it, you found- or will find yet- something true." Her words seemed to disconnect, yet made perfect sense to them. Neither were anywhere near 'normal', or even 'unusual'. Two of a kind, an extremely rare sort- the sort who could re-shape all worlds to their image, if they so chose.
Something above even them pulled the pair together. Vendetta chose not to question what or why. She finally turned her mind's eye to the last statement he made. "In this moment, I resonate your desire- with a Gothic twist. Right now, I reflect your wishes- perhaps when we are done, you'd be kind enough to tell me why. For the moment, just enjoy- literally dance the night away." She spoke no more, drawing him closer. The violin shifted to include a flute... Emotional music played on, with hints of the Orient now laced in- curiouser and curiouser ever still.
This woman wasn’t like anything he'd ever experienced before. Mistress of all things arcane. Yin to his yang, with him with his science. In his own twisted way, Jervis could admire it. Down and about they spun, this way and that, flowing around clouds and sky. When she spoke he would listen; even her words, twisted and topsy-turvy like his own oft were, hidden with variant meanings only he understood. Slipping his digits along her own, he drew a breath in.
”—A more direct question then…” he began, twirling her out, and back into his arms- resisting the impulse to remark on her amused smirk, ”—What do you prefer to be called?” wondering if it had already been given- but desiring it all the same. Wetting his thin lips, his head dipped slightly, lolling back until it twisted about once more, admiring all the surrounding sights “—Will you? Won’t you? Will you? Won’t you? Will you join the dance?..” although strangely, it seems they had done exactly that.
”-I appreciate this gift, Mademosielle, I do…” Subtle, but present, deceit laced his statement. The truth was, Jervis didn’t quite like having his mind tampered with. After all, it was he who toyed with the world. His own thoughts were confusing enough; anything else... almost too much to bear, but he’d not let it show. Vendetta merely raised a perfect eyebrow- well aware of the lie.
Finalizing one last spin, he would release her, dropping back in a calculated move as he slid into the sudden;y re-appearing seat, slender legs crossed over ankle to the knee like a man ought to do, reaching for his tea. ”—Clever move really… illusions?” stroking the great tigress’ head once more, taking a sip "—I’m much more handy with science… Rather opposite yourself, Mistress of the Arcane” he declared.
"Memory and desire; illusion or reality... That is yours, and yours alone to discern." Vendetta shifted once more, settling into a new form- a sultry one at that. Blonde became blood, accompanied with a soft black/red skirt of deepest intrigue. Indeed, the front daringly revealing, flaring in the back nicely. Her boots matched both rather well. Those sultry eyes of hers pure red- spilled blood, spurned lovers, twisted psychopaths... Not unlike a certain Queen he's come to know and loathe...
Presently the pair found themselves back in the Hatterdasherie- nothing had passed, save for boring linear time. Vendetta's smile, for some reason, gave Jervis pause. Tension, concern for his life wove its way through his mind. Streaks of glass shattering in an already-broken soul. Though the only movement she made was to finish her tea and pour more- rose milk tea this time. She looked upon the room, and the gleam in her eye... It spoke of things dark, twisted.. Finally she spoke once more.
"Taking a glance into your mind was an intrusion; for this, I apologize. But it gleaned interesting information, mired in the madness." Vendetta and Jervis raised silent cups of tea- his way of showing rare forgiveness. "I believe I know your games rather well, Jervis Tetch. You much prefer to be the puppet-master; being the puppet doesn't suit your style at all. You preferred to cut the strings- if there were ever any to be cut." She giggled, lost in her own mind a moment. "We share delight in similar things, yet with opposing methods. I certainly respect and admire that." Here she giggled once more, previous words taking on a song quality- unusual, but then again, what parts of either of them were 'normal'?
She finally looked at him- that feeling, whatever it was, intensified. She looked as though she really might kill him at any given moment. "You asked what I prefer- labels are limits. To nobody's surprise, I have collected many- the being beneath too startlingly complex to be confined in any real way... However, should you insist, these days I answer to the title Lady Vendetta Iceflame. Vendetta is sufficient, for someone whose company I enjoy as much as yours."
Beneath the words of silk, malice and danger lie within... Some rise and fall, such was the Wheel Of Fortune. She was an enigma, more questions than answers- one he could relate to well. Her glance portrayed silent sentiments perfectly: 'Shall you tell your story, or do I need to dance in the darkness, more in your madness, to find out who you are in any measure again?'
”-Quite right my dear…” he began, sickly casual and cool- choosing to indulge the inquiry, seeking answers ”-Shame to admit that I once was the puppet, working for one who pulled my strings, made me do my little dance… One day, I cut my strings. She stopped guiding me… I became something else.”
His Boss Marcy had been his first Doll, far worse than Stephanie of course… It had been a trial; previously he only experimented on Lab Rats, learned a great deal… Too much neurological stimulation- she had been rendered brain dead after mere moments. Now, it was nothing short of pure art. Jervis couldn’t help but glance when her appearance shifted yet again- this time, a study of blood and shadow; she was ever changing- snowflakes, almost never the same. Intricate and maddening, yet delightful in its own way.
The only portion that remained genuine, gender, but he was hardly even sure if that was truthfully what she looked like- or mere preference. Was Jervis terrified of her? No, but he would be a fool if he didn’t feel need to be cautious; anyone would. She held a power even he could not hold a flame to. Casually, he sipped his tea, dipping one of the stray biscotti into the surface, soaking the flavor, seeming to play with it almost childishly… though Jervis was anything but.
”—It was all I needed to know, name for a beautiful face…” he declared, gently dipping his hand down once more to stroke along the crest of the Tigers' head, the creature nuzzling lovingly into his palm once more… curiously tame, science…his art once more at work, at play "-So what brings you here to my Haberdashery, dear?" he questioned curiously, eyes not yet lifting from the feline at his feet, though the question clearly meant for the Lady. Back into business- a venue Jervis would declare 'safe', would the word come forth in his mind.