The raven on her shoulder watches you with dark, beady eyes. Just like its mistress, the beast is analyzing you. You stand up taller - had you still had your wings then perhaps you might (just might) have appeared threatening. You clutch your staff tighter, and the end glows green.
Maleficent merely rolls her eyes and chuckles.
You do not have your raven now; you sent Diaval off for a few hours, gave him a quick break. Maleficent seems happy about that.
Aurora had asked you if there were any other Maleficents in the world, other witches with hearts of stone and eyes of glass and skin like ice. You had replied with no to the crying girl, and let her run away from you.
The curse, after all, was your fault. You were the one who invaded the party and cursed the sweet babe, too angry to realize it was her father who deserved the punishment.
Maleficent's eyes run over you. She stands only a few inches taller than you, and shows no signs of wings. Her power is found all over, from her staff to her body. An air of power hangs over her, and though the Moor folk bow to you, surely they would get down on their knees were they to see her.
"Who are you?" you had asked, staff raised at the woman who appeared out of smoke.
"Maleficent," she had replied. "But most simply know me as the Mistress of all Evil."
She reaches forward with a light green hand. She does seem Fae, but not completely, as if an outside force has consumed part of her. A smile crosses over her rose red lips, and her fingers wrap around your chin. Her touch is cold, as if she has never really seen sunlight. Ice must flow through her veins.
Yet she seems familiar. The rush of cold that runs through you is not an unusual feeling by any means. Keeping away the chill can be hard, and Aurora had commented before on how cold your skin felt.
Green skin, like that of an evil witch.
"Get away from me," you say, suddenly breaking from her.
She merely smirks in reply. And just as suddenly as she appeared, she is gone in a gust of smoke, leaving you alone.
Your own tears finally fall, surely as harsh and cold as the ones Aurora herself surely felt on her cheeks.