"so where's your pleasure now? it's not so pleasing when you are the one at the end of this misery. oh but it is for me, to sit and watch you bleed. so say your final prayer, but i'll promise you,
god can't show you where to hide

There is a burning in the back of her skull. The ever present thirst for the sight of her kin - or so they had once called themselves. It was plausible to suspect that they had now forgotten of the shadow that once was cast on the great walls of Paracon. The vagrant girl was now grown to a miscreant beast. Surely they had abolished all inklings of a thought that she was of Devil May Cry's blood - the great and noble king of Paracon. He had no such place to rule any further, and even when he had, he did not have the respect of Stella. She may have been the singular child of the triptych brood to despise the old bastard but she had never gave a damn for her indifference. She was not born of him and would not come to see him as a father at any point in her life, she was not so weak and needy for the constant presence of a father-figure; nor was she ignorant to the strange feeling deep within her gut. She had known that something was not right about their once-family and she had discovered what it was.

She had heard whisperings that Kiska had succumbed to the cold hand of fate, the girl was a bit more fond of her mother simply because she was right in picking Abraxus on that fateful night. He had given strength and brutality to those deserving of it, only two of which harnessed such a thing, though she very much doubted that Cordova retained as much of the DNA as herself. He was much like Devil in many aspects and less like Abraxus, but she knew that he had those little demons in him - thus allowing Stella to only tolerate him more so than the others.

With their mother ceasing to exist in the realm of this new Moladion any further, the hellion spawn knew that the others would be distressed and perhaps distant with one another. If the child prayed, she would, for Devil to be in complete misery from the sense of desertion; may his heart shrivel up and die in the dilapidated corpse that his soul now lived in.

The ferine girl plodded across the frozen wasteland, her darkened form weaving through the warm embrace of the shadows, she felt at home here. But she had no home; not any longer. Soon.. maybe, if the voices desired such. But they were silent now, fed and pleased by the violence that took place at the land called Iromar, at least until the jet form of another across the white fields caught her eye. Her movement ceases and her predatory gaze shifts slowly to view the other in the open. So familiar. She stares for the longest time, her eyes unblinking and blank as she watches, until the scent drifts towards her and realization sets in. A fleer slips upon her facade, pearl hued knives peeking so dangerously from her black lips. Zeteri. Her friends are back, chanting and screaming loudly in her mind for the girl so familiar. She barks in greeting, though far from friendly or inviting, it was minacious and sinister. A warning, perchance.

She steps forward, exposing herself to the endless white that seemed to fade into the gray, overcast skyline. It was a bleak vision to behold, yet the dirgeful essence of it all only set her further into motion. She is a hellish creature, her stature rivaling all but one of her siblings, Chance. He had been the only one to best her in size - but even that was nothing to be remorseful of. She was shy of him by only a few inches and only a few pounds. She had no sway in another male's heart by her looks alone, no, but she had force, she had sovereignty. It was all she desired for. She stopped just shy of a few inches from Zeteri, her jaws slightly agape in anticipation, an excited growl rumbling low through her throat. "Zeteri." The voices rejoiced in bouts of utter violence inside of her skull at the sound of her name. Her voice called forth in a coarse tone as her icy glare never left those warm tones of the other. A frivolous smirk towed at the corner of her lips. "You look -- plump." A snigger accompanied the remark as she continued to scrutinize the rivaling femme.

STELLA
no soul . no heart . of abraxus x kiska