A moment to die for

Chase knew he was behind her, but she dare not look back at him as she pushed open the door to his bedroom and looked around with an air of distaste. She remembered the room well, it was stuck in her memory much to freshly for her liking, and yet here she stood, having walked willingly into it, walked with dignity and what pride she could muster. She did not know how the evening would turn out.. but hopefully she'd be back home before long, so she could fully appreciate Calvin and who he was for her, the love of her life, the one she meant to hold until she was old and grey.

Of course things never work out that way for Chase..

Chase turned around once she was inside the room and crossed her arms over her chest, dripping onto his floor, and happy she was as well. Because it meant more cleaning up for him to do later, on her expense. "Stop calling me Clara, my name is Chase." She said with a dry tone, glaring at him, her red hair falling down her face like many streams of blood that sprouted from her scalp, the red was darker than normal, so it quite literally was the color of blood as she stood there, glaring at the man who had killed her family all that time ago.

With such confidence did she speak as to suggest that she truly believed she may leave with her life intact. Vito would have scoffed at the concept, had he abandoned his thirst for the achievement of constant perfection with his climbing of the spiral staircase - of which he'd grown quite fond. And yet, with a flourish of his wrist he did force the door past which he'd stepped to meet forcefully with its frame, as though it were so.

“You will speak to me with respect!” Vito demanded, his tone rising above the octave at which he most often spoke, having briefly fallen quarry to his frustration towards the woman who stood, bleeding and coated in mud before him. “Clean yourself, you are soiling my floor,” he added, and with another wave of his right hand, which he’d crumbled simultaneous to the wearing of his patients, the bathroom door swung open.

He turned away from Chase to watch her, instead, through the reflective glass of his mirror, thus allowing himself to examine the present state of his appearance as he awaited her departure from the room.

Chase made a face when he demanded she speak to him with respect. "I have no respect for you Vito." she said forcefully glaring at him, watching as he entered the room, an air about him that suggested he thought he owned the world, not just this pathetic little club that he called his. Chase watched as he waved his hand impatiently towards another door and it opened to reveal a bathroom, as much as Chase detested doing as he said, she would rather not be getting a cold when this was all done, so she stood only a moment longer, before she brushed by him and went into the bathroom, letting the door close with a snap.

After washing her face, Chase simply pulled out her wand and dried off her clothes to the best of her ability, siphoning off the mud caked onto it, attempting to leave as much mud on the floor that she could, hoping to infuriate him further. Even though she had a feeling she would probably be forced to clean it up later.. she didn't know what he wanted with her.. in fact, she had no idea what to expect when she exited the room, looking cleaner, even if her hair was still wet, and hanging in tangles around her face.

“Arrogant, unintelligent girl,” Vito complained aloud, his voice carrying across his bedroom despite his decision to calm himself. His fingers, quaking with rage, habitually carded themselves in the slick hair atop his head, and with each gentle rake he steadied himself, his darkly gleaming eyes never leaving those of the vessel who stared at him from beyond the mirror. It appeared Chase had drawn forth the underlying creature - and within such a short span of time!

“It is a pity that you’ve wasted such a beautiful mask,” Vito informed Chase as she returned, feigning the regret that had never quite existed in its true form within him. As he watched the frost upon his tongue dance across the glass at which he so intently stared, Vito gestured towards the end of his bed. “Have a seat.”

Chase stood in the doorway, running her fingers through her hair nervously, watching as he caused frost to form on the surface of the glass with just his breath.. he was such a cold creature, he always would be.. she was happy she was dry now, because she could feel the coldness of the room bite down on any exposed skin, making her shiver. She knew she was angering him, but what was the worst he could do? He could have killed her plenty of times in the past.. he wasn't about to now..

Chase glared at him and then slowly made her way to the bed. Without flourish she sat down heavily on it, scooting back and making sure to mess up the covers as much as possible, kicking her feet up, she kicked off her shoes and leaned back on the bed, tired despite the fact that Vito was in the room with her, and he seemed very angry. Chase was in an odd mood, a mood which put her in danger, because she truly just didn't care, she was prepared to take whatever pain he gave her, and then go home and cry a bit and heal, she was just to tired to put up with his sh!t anymore.

Not one of the attempts that she had made to further upset him went unobserved. With every fidget of her body upon his bed, an inaudible growl bubbled within Vito, much in the nature of a volcano on the verge of eruption. But as Vito had sworn to himself as he'd walked beneath the cover of his umbrella, enduring with impeccable control her every whine, neither her disrespect towards him nor her inability to survive a mere moment's silence would allude consequence.

Having broken away from the mirror with mild reluctance, Vito strode towards his bedside table, upon which he’d left the previous evening’s empty wine glass. With a fluent motion of his practiced fingers, he pulled the top from the bottle’s broken seal, and poured for himself all that remained within it. “Do you recall under what circumstances you and I last met in this room?” Vito inquired with the knowledge that the evening’s events had remained vivid in Chase’s memory.

He held the emptied bottle out at his side for a moment, as though examining his signature upon its label, before abruptly striking it against the bedpost. “I have never been fond of any other weapon than broken glass – specifically that of one of my bottles of wine,” Vito continued to speak with no other aim than to listen as his voice echoed enticingly throughout the room. He then proceeded to select from the pile of scattered glass that his actions had resulted in, the sharpest fragment; beautiful in the way that its razor edges shone beneath the ceiling lights. “Glass burrows beneath human flesh in a manner unlike anything I have ever seen,” he whispered, intrigued, as he leaned gracefully against one of four of the bed’s posts, his idle left arm no further than several inches from Chase.

“Your right hand,” Vito ordered, his tone having quieted remarkably.

Chase watched him silently, spread out on the bed, watching his eyes move upon his own reflection, watching his anger grow, she knew she shouldn't provoke him more, so when he turned towards her, she sat up straight and stared at her hands, willing the door to open and someone to take her away from this awful room. Vito spoke calmly, and made Chase shiver, she remembered the last time she had been in the room vividly, having ended up alarmingly drunk, and she had even gone as far as to kiss him. The site with him with wine in his hand made her nervous, but if he wanted her to kiss him again, she would do as he said.. because she didn't want to disobey him much longer.

Chase jumped when he smashed the bottle on the bedpost, and she stared at the broken shards as he held it in his hand, mentioning a weapon. Chase watched him nervously as he selected a sharp piece of glass and picked it up. Unable to keep herself from shaking, Chase moved farther away from him, attempting to get out of reach of the man with the glass shards. She knew she would be hurt.. she just didn't like the thought of it actually hurting.

When he demanded her hand though, Chase refused completely, she shook her head violently and moved she was leaning on her hands on the bed, watching him with large eyes, looking scared, and innocent, her eyes fixed upon the piece of glass which he would undoubtedly use to hurt her with.. and there was really nothing she could do about it.

"I did not give you that option," Vito corrected, before seizing with a pitiless grasp the wrist upon which existed the hand that he'd demanded she present him with. "You will respect me," with a precise incision, and a strength that most certainly did not belong to the mortal in which Vito resided, he forced his makeshift knife cleanly through Chase's fourth finger, deeming it poetic that he begin with the digit upon which her wedding band could be found.

The ring clattered to the floor over which Vito held Chase's extended arm. "For every order you fail to follow, you will be rewarded with another digit lost. Now, shall we begin with the real fun, or would you like me to make my way through each of your fingers?" He smirked, satisfied with himself.

Chase tried to pull away as he grabbed her wrist, and pulled it towards him. Immediately she could feel an intense amount of panic seize her, and before she could do anything, a searing hot pain was all she could feel where her finger had been. The finger fell to the floor, and the ring clattered onto the floor next to it, taken completely off by the shard of glass that had been so sharp it had gone right through her finger, and she had lost it completely.

Chase let out a scream of pain and immediately wrenched her wrist out of his grasp, putting her finger over the area where her finger had been, blood dripping down onto her clothes as she tried with all her might to yank a piece of fabric free from her shirt, but she failed miserably and could only sit there, staring at where her ring finger had been, and then looked down at where her finger now was. It was almost a shock, seeing the digit laying on the floor, and slowly her eyes raised to look at Vito. "I won't disrespect you again.. sir.." she whispered, tears falling down her face as she attempted to stop the flow of blood with her cloak.

Nothing less than that warm, crimson copper could inflict upon him such ecstasy. With his empty hand, Vito caught within the creases of his palm what blood drizzled from Chase's open wound. It pooled upon his flesh, providing him with the heat that he himself was incapable of producing. With his eyes fixed upon the substance, he moved his hand nearer to his eager, parted lips and drank from the small supply that he had gathered. With such immense pleasure did his eyes burrow themselves within the back of his skull, that he did sigh. He was intoxicated by its potent scent as it mingled with Chase's voiced assurance that she would hereby comply - which immediately woke him from his blissful stupor.

"My name!" He hissed, joining her atop his bed in a single, fluent movement. "I told you to use my name," Vito elaborated, his words urgent kisses against the crook of her neck, thus painting her pale skin a deep red with the blood that stained his lips.