Back in the game...sorta

Zara stared at the men as they walked out of the bar, but she felt.. off tonight. Sure she had pick pocketed plenty, probably had enough to pay for a whole new wardrobe, and then enjoy a nice day at the spa, but her heart just wasn't in it. Since she had met Matt.. well things went down the drain, no longer did she have that sex appeal towards men as she used to have, no longer was she preying on their hearts, as well as their checkbooks, no.. she felt none of that, she stole to get her money now, and that was about it. She had even stood by a muggle counter in a small store, and contemplated grabbing an application to work there.. but she had changed her mind last minute and dove out of the shop before anyone could see her there... now she stood staring at a group of men, so easy, she was running through a million different characters in her head, from the straightforward sexy, to the lost and confused drunk first night out on the town.

But before she could make up her mind they were gone, a decision that would have taken her a split second before, had just lost her the kill... Kill... that word kept going through her head, how many HAD she killed? Aurors, muggles, men... wizards, her mind had been on death when she had gone to Matt's table.. that man again! She sighed and stepped into the shadows, becoming one with them almost as effectively as though she had gone invisible. Why had that man pulled her heartstrings so tightly? Sure... it was great sex.. but besides that... his easy going smile... the twinkle in his eyes, his laugh.. it made her knees weak and she just wanted to sit and stare at him all day long. For once in her life, she felt sexually satisfied, and was almost.. tired of her lifestyle... lucky for her she COULD go neutral, or whatever people called it these days.. no one knew she was a killer, she had made sure of it.. but still... it was a scary thought, she liked stealing to much, and in accordance to the 'good' guys.. that was bad, and she would never be accepted by them.. a Death Eater... turned good? It just didn't happen, and she knew it... so why did it make her so sad?

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Zara pulled herself together and pushed herself away from the wall, determined to catch up to those men she had let slip away without a thought about it, determined to prove that she wasn't whipped, and she was still in the prime of her life.. she could steal and kill, and rape.. and no one could stop her... not even Matt Lestrange.

The self-loathing that had overwhelmed Vito’s creator after their most recent conversation hit Vito like a bullet. No hate potion brewed or hallucinogenic grown could have compared to the relief which Vito had experienced upon awaking that next morning. Vito had tried every toxin, of both wizard and muggle creation, and had found nothing to be as effective as Jack Dyllan’s misery. Evidently he had been mistaken when he’d assumed that the truth would be the end of his existence. He'd never before experienced such a level of ecstasy. In fact, It was intoxicating.

On account of the energy that he’d been fed, Vito’s effect on his surroundings, which was often weakened by the poltergeist’s limited life supply, had greatly increased. While warm air had become scarce since his arrival in Knockturn Alley, the drastic change in temperature could no longer be blamed on London’s fickle weather; even to those who’d grown used to the chilled air in that area it came as a surprise to see that every windowpane had been tattooed with frost, and that the bricks which the streets had been constructed of had paled in color. Street lamps, too, were behaving strangely; they’d begun to flicker to no particular rhythm, painting that dark corner of the wizarding world in shadows.

Vito found the environment to be quite comfortable. Having anticipated the way in which Knockturn Alley would react to his good mood, Vito had dressed accordingly that evening. His fitted, suede trench coat acted as the perfect shield from the cold. In fact, as he slinked about in the shadows he’d created, an extra click had been added to the sound of his traditional strut. Who would have thought it possible for a poltergeist to walk with a spring in its step?

Upon having left Satan’s that evening, Vito hadn’t had any particular pastime in mind, other than accompanying a cold breeze on an evening’s stroll – but his intentions were so easily changed when a familiar voice drifted his way. Zara Ellis. Vito could not recall how much time had passed since his previous encounter with the enticing female, it had been so long.

For his grand entrance, Vito decided upon edging out of the dark and stopping before the female. The toe of one of his polished shoes met with hers. By taking this position, he’d separated Zara from her target – which Vito had picked out with ease. He turned his face towards the woman with a seductive smirk. “Doll face,” he greeted as he gazed at her through his long eyelashes.

Of course one person could stop her, one person she hadn't exactly expected on this chilly night, and she was suddenly toe to toe with Vito Dee Symons. She hissed in surprise and sprung backwards, glaring up at the familiar man, last time she had seen him.. well, for one it had been a blast, and for the other, they had both tried to kill the other in a muggle house, which was always fun, but still, with Zara's appetite for sex fringing upon the non existent, meeting with a man who she had nearly died in the hands of, and had seen the wrath of just by touching his hair, she knew that tonight, she wanted nothing to do with him, especially in her current mental state which basically made it known that she was falling out of her game, and was slowly turning into a 'normal' person, and it scared her, so she had WANTED to go after easy prey, but tonight.. it seemed she was being challenged by none other then the great Vito himself.

"Hello Vito." She said pronouncing his name in a way that made it sound very drawn out an exaggerated. "To what do I owe this.... pleasure?" She asked, smirking, but her eyes showed her discomfort, her voice was slick her body language was tight and pressed, even if she was starting to shiver.. did this man just... seep cold air out of him or did a wind spring up? She was suddenly doused in cold air and she was freezing. "It seems you have made my target get away." She said, pretending to pout, before smirking at him. "I'll just have to choose another." She said gently, running her fingers up in the middle of the two, before gently touching his jacket, smirking as her eyes darted up to his and she licked her top lip tantalizingly, her mind totally not in the game, but her skills as an actress taking over for her anyway.

“Why, Zara…” Vito spoke, deliberately drawing his every word out for an unnecessary length of time, much in the way Zara had pronounced his name. Vito regarded the woman before him with a mocking flick of his eyes, so to add on to the effect of their conversation. “You should know by now, that you owe the pleasure of my presence to none other than myself,” Vito continued, having paused for long enough. Every sentence was strategically planned before it fell from his lips. His every statement was a setup to another; as though he had been given a script to read from, and had memorized each line.

It was all an act, after all. That much had been made evident when Zara had retreated behind her usual façade. When the pair had last encountered one another, Vito had fallen for her act, and had mistakenly allowed Zara to entangle him in a web of temptation, lust, and mystery. But as Zara stood before him then, and it was under his terms that they had ‘run into’ each other, the smokescreen was nearly tangible as it hung in the air about Zara’s flawless face.

Vito followed Zara’s partially extended fingers as they met with his jacket. So familiar was her touch that, with every passing second that her warmth seeped through the layer of clothing that separated their skin, the time that they had spent apart melted away. It was interesting, to say the least. “He was no target,” Vito replied in a tone that was on the verge of sounding absentminded. As though Vito could ever truly quiet his pestering thoughts. Nay; he simply enjoyed the sound of the airy tone that he’d achieved. “In order to be a target, one must present oneself as a challenge,” he continued, and met eyes with Zara once more.

“Oh,” Vito announced, pretending as though he’d been struck by a realization. “I do believe I owe you a Colombian necktie.” With an abrupt movement of his right arm, Vito brought his right hand in-between Zara and himself. He held his hand with his palm facing her, as though Vito was attempting to shield himself from her touch. “I did tell you not to touch my hair, didn’t I?” Vito inquired, and flicked his wrist towards Zara. It was a simple movement that would have meant nothing at all, hadn’t Jack Dyllan gotten so worked up over the truth that Vito had discovered. But with his creator all in a huff, the poltergeist was capable of far more than inflicting frostbite upon the locals. A single twitch of Vito’s hand, and he’d thrown Zara against the nearest wall with the same force as a rough shove.

Vito took a planned step forward, and left no more than an inch between himself and the woman that he was so very delighted to see again. He lifted his index finger, and brushed his fingertip lightly against a patch of skin at the base of Zara’s throat. He glided that finger across her skin slowly, drawing an imaginary line across her neck. “It is a bit brisk tonight, isn’t it? I’m afraid my hands have gone a little cold,” Vito stated sarcastically.

His skin wasn’t just cold; it was frozen.

Did this man just enjoy messing with her on the one day she didn't want to deal with him? The way he looked over her, it made her skin crawl, and not just with the goosebumps that were raising on her arms and legs suddenly in the cold chill that emanated from this man. He was very controlled, as always, and she knew that he had the upper hand today, and she could afford no mistake, none, or he could easily kill her. She had seen his skills in bed, and she had escaped being killed by the man, but today.. he looked especially dangerous and smooth, and charming, but that made a red flag go up in her head, He sounded to nice, and her goosebumps got larger, she was scared now, and when he put his hand up between them, she suddenly knew something was wrong.

Suddenly though, she was against the wall she had been standing near, and her back hurt badly, she gasped for air as he strode near her and she suddenly realized that bad things were going to happen, but the pain from the impact with the wall kept her standing there for a second to long as he came and stood right in front of her. He stood in front of her, and she stared up at him as he lifted his hand and pressed a finger against her throat, drawing a line across it. Immediately she felt a gasp escape her throat. His hand felt like it was on fire, but not normal fire, they weren't hot, it was a searing cold that felt like it was burning. She stared up at him and tried not to look to scared now. Her mask was having a hard time staying in place. "Why Vito..." She whispered through gritted teeth. "You had better get inside, you're hands are freezing." She whispered and then her hand came up and grabbed a hold of his. The gesture he had made across her throat was unmistakable, she knew what he meant by it, but she would fight for her life with every ounce of strength she had. She suddenly HAD a reason to live for, and she wasn't about to let him take that away from her.

The skin he had touched with his hand was burning from the icy touch. That odd feeling of being much to hot after touching something much to cold. "Maybe we should go inside love, get something warm to drink, warm you up a bit." She whispered, knowing she was going to have to fight for her life, in ways that many people didn't deem a normal fight. She had to charm herself away, she'd have to use her wit, her skill, her acting abilities to give him what he wanted if she wanted to live. The fact was, she had touched his hair once, and now she was going to pay, the least she could do was not touch it again, and hope for the best. Her mind was racing, but her face looked calm, as she rolled her shoulders very gently, trying to get some feeling back into them from her impact with the wall. She didn't know how he had done it, nor did she really care at the moment, she would think about that later, for now, she had a battle to win.

Presentation was everything. There was nothing of more importance to Vito than the way in which he appeared to the eyes of the human beings in his presence. Even those whom he murdered - the beings whom he believed to be nothing more than insects and a source of entertainment - had an impact on Vito as they stared with wide eyes in his direction. In fact, it had been in the name of his addiction to attention that Vito had lifted his hand from Zara’s throat, and had rested the tips of several fingers just above her upper eyelids.

Surely, nothing other than his face occupied her field of vision, due to the proximity of their bodies. But a longing at Vito’s very core drove him to make certain of this truth. With both his index finger and his thumb held a mere millimeter apart, Vito took hold of one of the long, brown eyelashes at the very corner of Zara’s right eye. He held the hair firmly between each finger, nearly gripping at the lid from which it had sprouted. And with an abrupt tug, he tore the flimsy flesh that had previously covered Zara’s eye from the skull that it had been sewn to.

The skin was quickly discarded of, and Vito set to work on the next. “Eyes on me, dollface. We wouldn’t want you to miss anything, now would we?” He asked with his head tilted slightly to one side, completing his taunting expression.

For a brief moment he had considered the possibility of reconvening elsewhere, as Zara had suggested. After all, Vito would have far more to work with if he moved the party to his nightclub. But the warm feeling of blood against his frostbitten flesh quickly reminded him of the lust that he had acquired for the sticky liquid. It had been far too long since he’d last spent the evening disassembling a human, due to the tight leash that Jack Dyllan had previously bound him by. And it was a sensation that Vito had missed so dearly that he could not bear to prolong the fun. “There is no need; your blood is warm enough for the both of us,” he replied with a smirk.

Zara had to admit, she was at a loss... Vito didn't seem to be in the mood for play, and she figured she was about to die. Or at least be seriously hurt. His fingers were resting just lightly over her eyes, and she stared at him, blinking every now and then, but her whole body seemed to have frozen from that touch. It felt burnt, but cold, and she shivered hard, her whole body trembling in fear and cold. Her heart was hammering, and she felt his fingers pinch her eyelashes, trapping her eyes on him. But she wasn't prepared for what happened next.

He literally tore her eyelids off. Zara let out a yell, and her hand immediately went up to her face, blood poured from the skin and into her eyes, causing them to burn badly, and Zara heard him, but couldn't look at him. He just... did that?! Zara was whimpering loudly, trying to keep the blood out of her eyes and failing, while the blood dripped down the side of her face and onto her fingers. "Vito!" She gasped, and looked up at him, her top eyelid completely gone.

The gasp that Zara had emitted in response to his actions had not been enough to appease his desire. He had excepted a far more significant complaint than the simple exhale of breath and the mention of his name that he had received. Evidently, Vito had not considered the possibility of the woman having such a high tolerance for pain. And his miscalculation was enough to push him over the edge that he'd been teetering on from the moment he had laid eyes on Zara's familiar face that evening.

Vito threw to the pavement the second of Zara's upper eyelids, and was once more rewarded with a steady stream of blood, which had promptly begun to seep from the large tear that he'd made above her eye. But he was not yet satisfied with the damage that had been done to Zara's previously perfect face. True, it was a feeling that Vito believed he could grow addicted to with ease; the pride that overwhelmed him as he stripped the beauty from Zara, stealing from her the only thing that had ever justified her existence. Yet it had not been enough to force her to stare in his direction. No; doing so had been nothing more than reassurance that he had Zara's full attention. Vito had not yet begun to torture her.

For a brief moment Vito diverted his attention from his victim, and he began to study his hands. He lifted each to his eye level, with his palms turned towards himself. Not a patch of clean skin remained as Zara's blood slid down his hands. He parted his fingers and watched with interested as the thick substance clung to each. "Beautiful," he breathed, before flicking his eyes upward once more to examine his work. "It is perhaps the only, truly flawless trait that you humans posses," Vito informed her. As he finished with his sentence, Vito extended his tongue through parted lips, and slowly dragged it across the flesh of one of his stained fingers. After one swipe, the low rumble of the laughter that he'd caged within his diaphragm shook him. "It would be a shame to waste any."

Zara held her hand over her face and attempted to blink, but there was only her bottom eyelid to do so, and the blood kept pouring into her eyes. "You bastard!" She hissed, and held her hand up, hiding him from her gaze, until he started to speak. She slowly removed her hand, and looked through the blood and tears to him, as he lifted up his hand, and licked the blood off of them. "You sick bastard!" She growled, and her arm shot out to push him away from her so she could run. Get away from there, run as hard as she could. She wasn't about to let him tear her apart like that, no way in hell.

If only she could get away from him. She pushed with all her might, her bottom eyelids working furiously to blink away what they could, as her top eyelids were unable to work at the moment. "Get away from me!" She gasped and flung herself to the side, digging in her heels, she let one fall off, then the other, and she kicked up with the last one, so that it would be flung out behind her, and maybe distract him for a second, as she took off running, barefoot, down the alley, holding her hands above her eyes, but having to see, so she held them out a ways and stared at the ground so she knew where she was going. Deeper into Knockturn alley.. not the best idea.. specially when your face is literally covered in blood, but it was the only direction she had been able to take off in, and so she went farther, no ability to turn around and head out into the populated section of Diagon Alley.