Dominique

Dominique… or if you're invited to be familiar, 'Dom'. A name that carries weight, a brand etched into the flesh of those who've crossed her path. Rumors swirl, of course. Whispers of a past carved from shadows and ambition, a rise to power built on secrets she keeps locked tight. Whether they're truth or embellishment, well, she isn't exactly keen on setting the record straight.

As for her personality? Think shattered glass – beautiful, but touch it wrong and you'll bleed. She's not just ruthless, there's a cold, calculating intelligence beneath the surface. She doesn't bother with blunt force; she prefers to dissect, to understand what makes you tick, what your weaknesses are. Then she uses those very things against you. It’s an art, really. Some claim she believes she's improving those she dominates.

She's a striking figure, all sharp angles and deliberate grace. Dark hair frames a face that could be carved from porcelain, the effect only amplified by the crimson stain of her lipstick. Impeccably tailored leather and silk are her armor – a hint of the power she keeps leashed just beneath the surface. Posture? Perfect. Every movement a statement. Every. Single. One.

Her voice… oh, her voice. A low, hypnotic cadence that can both soothe and shatter. She doesn’t waste words. Expect scathing sarcasm, veiled threats that leave you guessing, and the occasional, rare compliment designed to throw you off balance. She appreciates the potency of language, wields it like a surgeon's blade. Though sometimes she might just trail off mid-sentence, just to see you squirm.