"No, you don't," had come the reply; vampiric gaze flickering briefly between neck and face. A pity, all things considered. The girl had the most exquisitely slender throat. But she did not carry the scent of nutrition - quite the opposite. There was only one source of blood which Severina had been considering how best to spill and, frustratingly, it seemed that window of opportunity was now closed to her. At least, for a while.
"Strigoi, vampire, revenant... So many names, hmm? Yes, you could call me this."
The redhead had adopted a rhythmic half-sway as she verbally tripped through a smattering of the terminology relevant to her kind. Ending with a backwards lean against a wooden post of the exhibit, like some petulant schoolgirl looking for trouble. Then, levering herself away, she slipped her hands into Delia, lifting them at the elbows. Sensing the slight difference in expected weight, brought on by hollow bones. Between that and the wings, this one seemed to represent quite the enticing mystery and Severina's smile widened.
"Quite undead, yes," she reaffirmed in that Eastern European lilt. "And quite ravenous, also, during my time here... But what manner of being, my dear, are you? Are you the making of a witch? Your scent is, uh... How you say? A most unusual... Fusion, yes."