She sat looking at herself in the odd material that he den was made of. The shiney, grey, odd material reflected her image. She stared into her own yellow orbs as she admired the bloody skull that she wore as a mask. The woman's body was scattered across her den. Bones were put into their assorted piles as the fur laid under her black wool pallet she used as a bed. The eyes were upon a ledge that was obviously made by the humans. She set them down for safe keeping. They seemed to be freezing to her liking. Though, she kept the skull of the woman she killed. She wore it like the savage she was. It was a mask and protected at the same time. She was content with herself. She had a mate, a beautiful mate. One that accepted her. She had a home, and things going for herself. But, soon she had to do something big. Since she met Creedance, Alena, Ozzy, and some other darker creatures, she knew they were out there. Now, if only she could really meet them all and maybe gather them into a group. Canttina did not pay attention to the packs, she knew there was Amenti and Glaciem and some other kingdoms south, but she wished to take one of. She would have to size them up and gather woman for this monarchy. But, whatever Canttina set her mind to, usually happened or ended up deathly. Speech

To finally be far enough out of her homeland's reach that their rumors no longer clawed at her existence should have come as a relief. There should have been time to relax, to settle and make a new life for herself. But years of torment, of being chased and abused and called a monster had succeeded in breaking her soul. They had called her these things, things that were not true, that she would deny time and time again only for her pleas to fall on deaf ears. In the end, what sort of irony was it that she had become the very monster they said she was? There is only so much one can take before it simply becomes too much to bear. So even here, where no one could possibly know the witch, a witch she remained. [i]Strega[/], once a title that cut her with every utterance, had become a cloak. Strega was not afraid. Strega was not weak. Strega was a beast to be feared, a name that had turned into a reputation, a safety blanket against cutting fangs and ripping claws. No one wanted to get close enough to Strega to hurt her, she was safe.



Belladonna was dead. The innocent she-wolf had been ripped away, revealing an ugly center that glared at the world through the ruined husk. She was as if a mummy, her skin a bandage that hid the grisly corpse beneath. She was okay with that. Had come to terms with it, come to relish the fear reflected in the eyes of those who crossed her path. Her repertoire of knowledge had grown over the years, and in knowledge there was power. What did she have to fear when dozens of ways to kill a wolf untraced swam in her hollow mind?



No, it was everyone else who should be scared. Three grueling years it had taken. Three years of running, of isolation, of going so long without tender company that words and etiquette were foreign to her now. But she felt confident, finally, in her craft that for the first time she felt free. Fear had bound her so long, and they say that a caged bird does not sing sweetly, and that was true. A bird confined to a cage did not sing as sweetly as it once did, but it still sang, of fear and pain. And wasn't fear perhaps one of life's greatest motivators? Without it to drive her, she would not be where she was today. Venom personified.



Her travels had taken her to many strange places, but none so strange as the place she came to now. A mammoth heap of strange material lie before her. It gleamed red and gold in the dying sun, stark against the darkening earth. She didn't know what it was, but it pulled her in. Strega thrilled in the unknown. She wanted to know everything there was to learn in the world, in order to prepare herself for anything.



So she approached the ship with caution, climbing the ramp upward carefully. Her paws didn't grip it very well, so it was slow going, but eventually she made it up to the ship, entering a passage that led into its belly, nails clicking the whole way. The scent of blood permeated the air, and her fur stood on end with caution, thankful she had cloaked her claws in venom. Though the ice might have diluted it, perhaps enough would remain to assist her if she needed to defend herself.

Her grizzly form sat upon her perch. She stared out a hole in the wall, it was made of clear material that she was quite interested in. But, her faceless form was pointed out towards the frozen water that covered the lands before her. She rolled her scarred shoulders as the scent of another filled her nose. It was a female. She did not bother to turn around, yet she sat still at the window perched upon the man made ledge. Her tail was curled around her left side of her body without care. Her eyes were lawless. They peirced throught he white blanket until she heard the clinking of claws come closer and closer. Her hackles raised, who trespassed into her cavernous den? The woman snorted. Canttina got up form her perch and leaped off. She slithered from the main room and appeared upon the deck. A quite large darker pelted girly was seen slithering forward. The masked daemon tilted her head and giggled. She enjoyed the sight of the other woman. Her dappled fur and contrasting colors. The rippling muscles and dark look within her eyes. A rush of lust heated up within her core. The amount of dark girls visiting her den was exciting. Karmen, Ozz, Renesme, now this little lady. It made her hot. She giggled again before chackling words were let forth, "Now, who may this lovely creature be?" She showed no signs of hostility, just hunger and lust. Speech

The further she roamed into the strange silver beast, the more intriguing things she found. There were dens scattered about, strange palettes in each that she assumed served as bedding for the twolegs who must have operated this thing. No other creature could be capable of such wonders. The further she went, the stronger the scent of blood became. It was slightly rancid, as though a few days old. Her fur rose higher on end, the delightful thrill of nerves shooting through her veins like ice.

She heard other paw steps, lifting her head to the deck to see another female slink out of the shadows. A skull was attached to her face, and it was such a nice fit that Strega almost believed it to be her own skull exposed, though years of practicing medicine dismissed that thought. Canttina's words were strange, causing her tattered ears to fall back. Lovely? Perhaps the skull clouded her vision. Sick, small, and strange were words to describe Strega, among others. Lovely was not. Then again, anyone who wore a skull like a crown could surely not be all there.

Clearing her throat, Strega thought carefully. She had not spoken in so long, would her voice even cooperate? "Ci-ao," she croaked, her voice raspy and low, thick with the accent of her homeland, and she struggled to remember proper English terms. Her thoughts were almost exclusively in Italian, using English only for terms her people had no name for. "Mi scusi, my English quite rough, signora. I am Strega." She spoke the name as though it were the name of a fine wine, the word still having such an effect on her after all these years'in the way it alternately made her swell with pride in her accomplishmens, and agonize over what she lost in return.

Canttina was a woman of darkenss. The halls of her manor were dark enough. They were cold and haunted. The humans must have passed away or left because she had yet to find any bones. Did they have bones? She had no clue. Oh how she would love a human skull for her collection of skulls, but she would have to continue searching. Her yellow eyes roamed the body of the dark colored girly before her. She was lithe but capable, just like Canttina. But Canttina was packed with tormented muscles. Muscles that have been punctured and torn to many times over again. She liked what she saw but what she heard she enjoyed even more. Italian? She heard a single word. She had no clue what it meant. But, then the woman began to make sense. Her dark Italian accent peeking through the a black bear in snow. The woman with the skull crown let forth a laughter of joy. "Oh, my darling Sterga. I do like you. I love your accent and language. It is a like a lullaby, love." She grinned under her bloody mask before more tones were heard. "What brings you to my manor?" Her head tilted with a twisted smile. Speech

Strega returned the female's gaze evenly, dual colored eyes peering dully beneath lashes, having to look up at her due to their height difference. The female stared at her with this strange look, the concept of oust lost on the female. She had never seen it before, let alone experienced it. The only emotions she was familiar with were the innocent ones of her youth, and the negative ones that had shaped her last three years. The laugh perplexed her, as she could not recall saying anything funny, however it seemed to be more of an excited laugh than a ha-ha laugh, and Strega simply waited for an explanation.

It came shortly after, and Strega tipped her head to the side, a very faint smile setting her lips askew. "Oh? Grazie, signora. And your name?" She inquired, noting the female had not given it. "Italian is language if love, many say." She herself was not familiar with this, but it had been said by travelers back home. Strega would agree it was a lovely language to listen to, though she frequently forgot such, being a speaker of it made it less of a big deal.

"This place.... It is strange to me. I wished to see it for my own eyes up close. The den is from humans, si?" A pointed glance around sent a shiver down her spine, it was so unnatural, the shapes so straight and non organic. Everything was unform. Clinical. Cold. She found that she quite enjoyed it, so different from anything else she had ever seen. It was no wonder this strange woman lived here, something about the ship seemed very befitting of the skull-clad demoness.

Canttina usually waited to announce her name because she disliked random people knowing a name and a face. But, now she had no face to her name. She had a mask, which was also very identifiable. She was the only fae she of whom wore a Wolves skull on her head. She finally let forth her name, making it known to the ears of this woman. "Canttina Cael, darling Sterga." The other woman then spoke again, commenting on her accetn. The mahogany dapple woman smirked, oh she did LOVE the Italian accent a lot. She watched as the lovely lady looked about before a question was heard. The accent nearly made Canttina drop, but she contained her lust. "Humans did create this, it seems like a shelter of some sort. I made it my own though. It much larger beneath the main bit. Wanna see?" For once Canttina was actually being .. nice? More like blinded by the dark fur of the little italian woman. She grinned and got up. The woman slithered to the passage that led downstairs. Speech

Strega for Bloss:

For a moment it seemed as though the masked monstrosity would it reveal her name. At the last moment, when Strega was ready to change the subject, her name fell into the air, and Strega nodded. Looking the woman over, there was no way to tell if the name matched the face, as all she could see was her eyes no her nose. But there was a darkness in those bright gold eyes that contrasted so sharply with the admittedly light sound of her name. "We are well met, Signora Canttina."

"Ah yes, I would very much like to see more. Your home seems to fit you so well, il mio tesoro," she purred, her voice taking on a husky sort of tone. Never in her life had Strega flirted, and she had certainly never done so with a female, but she knew how to speak and she knew how to toy with others. Se drew amusement from the way that Canttina reacted to her. It was new and exciting, and she wanted to milk it a little more. Her reddish ears, or what was left of them, tipped back in a coy expression, her eyes too dull to glitter, but certainly smokey.

The smell of blood continued to waft up from the belly of the makeshift den, reminding Strega this was a dangerous place she was in. Both of the women were killers, though neither could be sure to what extent the other's crimes went. Their methods were polar opposites; Strega's den would never smell of blood. Her methods were far more covert. Canttina wore a trophy of a kill upon her face, and Strega was willing to bet her scars were earned in battle. For Strega, her marred body was simply a map that showed the progression of her life, how she went from point A to point B. From pristine to tainted.

"Oh. Surely you must know I would inquire, but this skull you wear, it is from where?" She wondered, her voice thirsty for the knowledge. She was dying to know, what possessed a wolf to wear another's head as their own?

Canttina rolled her shoulders and continued to stare at the woman before her. The woman heard the Italian tones again and nearly melted, though she remained calm. Just the way she spoke made Canttina's core flutter with heat. The invite was then accepted, they would explore. She shot a wink Strega's way and snickered horrible. She licked her marred lips and moved towards the steps leading down into the pits of the ship. As they walked Canttina had the horrible urge to embrace the dark lady. Yet, she contained herself. They walked down a long hall with many rooms connected to them. Human resting places were within the caverns. Another question was let forth, oh? so she was interested in the skull? The mahogany daemoness laughed before she spoke. "A woman woke me from a lovely dream. I decided it was time for a new accessory. So I forced it onto my head. People seem to love it." Speech

Strega for Bloss:

Canttina cast a wink her way, and it caused a chuckle to bubble from her throat, her eyes half lidded and smoldering beneath lashes. Something about this woman begged for the playfulness to show itself, and she had to admit she was enjoying this one's company. How long had it been since she felt as though she could relax around another? Why, surely never, not since Bethelhem was killed. Had she been a more gentle soul she might have commented on it, thanked Canti for her hospitality and make a statement about how she thanked her for accepting her. But as it stood, Strega was no gentle beast, and such words, she felt, would be wasted on this dark mistress,

"Che talor cresce una belt? un bel manto," she said idly as she looked around, peering into the rooms as they passed, noting their uniformity. It seemed the majority were supposed to be dens, with strange squares situated in corners that looked somewhat soft. There were weird platforms, some with things on them, other barren, all covered with a layer of dust. "Mi scusi, I keep forgetting my language is foreign to you. It means that fine clothes only make a fine creature more beautiful." Her translation was a little paraphrased, but the general integrity if the statement remained, another somewhat shady grin encapsulating her lips. Another might have found eerie, but Canttina was sure to take it as intended.

They walked along the many cavernous halls of the human beast. Their shoulders were side by side and Canttina let her tail flicker to Strega's, flirty but innocent. The brown beast and the grey behemoth slithered as one. Foreign tones filled Canttina's ears and she nearly melted. The insane girl giggled softly before the grey dappled girl let forth a sorry. The mahogany woman shook her head quickly, the completment was almost to much for her to handle. "Thank you, my darling babe. I'd like to say it covers up enough to make me more .. horrifyingly mysterious." She snickered and rolled those diced up shoulders. The woman then let forth more vocals. "Now, I wish to propose something to such a deviant delight as yourself. If I were to say .. claim one of these fruity packs as mine .. would you wish to accompany me as one of my ranked woman within the matriarchy?" The question was balanced in delicate yet serious tones. Speech