Clay, gold, a partial scent of dead flesh... Feathers.
It was a collection of aromas which sparked old memories, as with much which was still on display. Indeed, the voice registered dim familiarity, though without certainty behind it.
"Another, yes... There always was."
Severina had not spoken when last she featured among the exhibits. The thickly accented voice pronouncing each word with silky deliberation, seductive in its own way, should she wish it. But playfulness, unusually, was not foremost in the fanged redhead's mind. Retribution was.
Oh, such torment she had known, month after month, imprisoned within the captivity of her own flesh and bones. Unable to move, react or, fatefully, even to feed. A paralysis of body, without the basic kindness of numbing one's own mind. Severina's cadaver might have passed from life long ago, but here she could only endure. Endure the pained frustration of awareness and the terrible, growing thirst. Laying posed for the curious, forced to smell their sweat, hear the temptations of their beating hearts and listen as some scoffed aloud that she might be real, until they were invited to glance at her teeth or listen to the absence of a pulse.
As she turned to acknowledge the one who had spoken, crimson curls gave way to skin and a cat-like gaze, upon a face which had once been regarded as immobile property.
A face which flickered with confusion along the brow, for the girl was... Someone. Someone else who had been without a pulse, who had sometimes neared her in private, speaking aloud. Providing at least a little company to break the repetition of pained hunger and need to scream.
"I..."
Yes, that vague recollection was struggling its way to the surface. Enough to cause the vampiress to narrow her eyes in suspicion, beginning, now, to wonder.
"I am told the former owners are no longer here... Might you know where they could be found?"
But that sense of knowing would not let go and Severina could not resist voicing her concern.