Valentine De'LaCroix hauled Lilith Danu into her home and studio, entering through the gallery's front doors. Lilith was still bound tightly, and covered from head to waist in the large laundry sack. Valentine tossed her unceremoniously onto a rather plush lounging couch of obvious antique origins. Removing the sack from Lilith's head, Valentine stared at her. Crouched before her, icy baby blues not blinking as they studied the pixie. She appeared to be wondering just what she had brought Lilith here for, exactly.

Before Lilith could speak, she hushed her with a pale, cold finger to her brilliant red lips, and shook her head slowly. Rising gracefully, she began to pace, wringing her hands and muttering to herself.

Turning suddenly, a tear slipping from her eye, she speaks softly,"You let me out of that coffin. What I did was your fault, you know. But he deserved it, he pawed me. They ALL paw and grope you..." She snarls, rambling on incoherently. "He probably did that to all the girls...forcing them just like those boys did. He may not have used the painful things, but it was just a matter of time. They ALL use the painful things. They cut you and laugh at you and make you crawl."

Tears slipping down her cheeks, that dark make-up that made her eyes so striking began to smudge and run, staining flawless alabaster skin. She sank to her knees, staring at Lilith, tears dropping onto her vinyl pants with soft pitter pats.

From her place before the fae woman, she watched Lilith's eyes, her movements. She may be insane, but she knew she was trying psychology on her. She didn't seem to mind this time, though.

Valentine sat back, and just stared at Lilith with that icy gaze; then she began to speak.

"I was 21, rich, single, and living in one of the party capitals of America, if not the world. My father was the mastermind behind countless enterprises, and I was a party girl. My job consisted of being seen at all the right places. Then, I met this artist and I began to paint, to sketch, and photograph. I got into the S&M scene...purely an observer at first, photographing and then doing portraits. I had a nome de plume, so to speak...a fake name for this artist persona. My father made sure of it. But people knew me from all the magazines."

Valentine sighed, and crossed her legs. She motioned for Lilith to sit befor her. Once she had, she undid the ropes binding her, and motioned for her to sit with the blade of her dagger. "Sit, but if you try to run, your dead."

She began to speak again, her eyes focused on nothing, almost dazed. "I was kidnapped from a club, the audiance thought it was a show. I was bound, gagged, and stripped nude. The men were wearing leather hoods, like the masks a lot of the people there wore. I was carried out to the sounds of applause and then gassed once we were outside. I came to on the dirty floor of an airplane, nude, bleeding from..." She looks down at her hands holding the dagger, they curl about the hilt till the knuckles gleam white. "I was in and out of it...I remember some things, but have the scars for things I don't remember. They got the money they were asking for...I know the FBI man who made the exchange killed some of them, but...no one would look at me the same when I got home. I was tainted, they all knew what happened to me...they caught one of the men, and he told them everything. The doctors...they told me and they told my family. My father couldn't stand me then, couldn't look at me knowing these things, so he sent me away. I lost it, and...partied all the time. I got arrested, and...began painting full time. Dark things, horrible scenes...no one wanted to see them. My father always came and burned them. No one would talk to me about it, about why, about what happened. So, he sent me away. I lived in my head, the only memories that were good were of my childhood. So, I lived as a child in my head, but I had these dark desires, this guilt and pain and...hunger for things no one could understand. Those that did, were considered perverts and...so my father sent me off-world. Here, to Rhydin. I was a black spot on his up and comeing political career. I had to be erased "

It all came out in a rush, she couldn't stop talking if she had wanted to. The coat hangers, the knives and razors...bottles and more, devices that she had to endure or speculate about. She stared at Lilith, in the eyes...waiting for her to look away in disgust like the rest. She knew she would kill her then; she couldn't bear to see the pity and the disgust in one more person's expression.

Valentine had stopped crying, makeup streaking her pale cheeks like black tears. She allowed the fae woman to take her hand. The contact was oddly comforting; and she listened. The dagger held tightly in her free hand was layed beside her, as if forgotten. It wasn't, and they both knew it, but they both agreed to pretend.

Lilith became angrier than Val had expected, almost as if she herself understood some of the feelings Valentine had. Did she? Did Lilith have these bloody and dark fantasies? The desire to cause pain? Or did she like the pain herself, was she a submissive? Was there really someone here who just might be able to help her understand these cravings?

She sighed gently and lay on her back on the floor, staring at the ceilings she had begun painting: demonic looking angels, cherubs with bat-like wings and bloody hands...terrible and beautiful at the same time. It was then, when Lilith questioned her, making her look deeply into herself and the past, that she knew she could not harm this woman. At least not now.

She sat up quickly, startling Lilith, and spoke,"I can't keep you here. I know they will find us here soon, but I can't bring myself to keep you. It is not your fault, and I am sorry I took you. I...can't control myself. I don't even know why...these whispers in my head, and the urge to hurt someone as badly as they hurt me...but then not. I'm so confused..."

She shook her head, unable to put into words what she was feeling. What she was feeling was extremely lucid, at the moment. The voices and shadows had faded greatly; she could think on her own, for the moment.
She knew that the need to hurt had always been there, but she had been able to control it before. When she was young, there were men and women both who fought to be the one she chose to take home for the night and play with. She had learned so much from her own time as a slave...she had learned that the greatest gift a dominate could give a slave or submissive was to take them to the point where they thought they could go no further, and then take them past it; showing them how much they really CAN take.

Her head spun with the memories of her nights in dark rooms decorated like dungeons, or clubs with the same themes. Or even expensive suites where they made do with the sturdy chandeliers and furniture...

"Go." She whispered, staring at her hands, at the bloody crescent moons her nails had made in her hands. "Get out now, before I change my mind. Leave...just go. I...I'm sorry."

She stood, not bothering to see if Lilith ran, walked, or flew out of her home and art studio. She headed for the wet bar near her, and took up the closest bottle to hand. It happened to be absinthe. She settled on that lounging couch, and began to get drunk.

Through a half drunken haze, she heard the gallery doors finally close. It took the fae long enough to leave, what was she doing up there for so long?

She shrugged, not caring at the moment. She was too filled with hatred, with self-loathing, and anger to bother. Polishing off the bottle of absinthe, she lay there on the couch, thinking of that great bloody beast that would be after her now. Lilith would tell him where she lived, and he would come, and then, perhaps, blessedly end her existance.

She did not truly wish to die, but, knew that if she was not stopped, the voices would return, and the memories. They always made her lash out, and she was just so damn angry.

Misery loving company, she hauled herself up, placed her tattered wizard's hat on her head, grabbed her black bag and worn teddy bear, and headed out to the Inn. Perhaps someone there would need a good butt kicking or something. Or, perhaps she could destroy something on the way. She had really enjoyed toilet papering Kalis's embassy. Breaking into the Costco had been almost TOO easy, too. Maybe she should think about joining the thieves guild.