Blackfeather Woods you have witchcraft in your lips

Mati smiled kindly. "Aphelion knows. You are born witch, yeah," she murmured, somewhat mysteriously, as the viper returned to her at a soft noise beneath the soothsayer's breath -- coiling in on himself as he wrapped more closely around her nape. The black pearl before her had the blood, just as the Melonii did. Perhaps her surname differed -- her looks too, slender and sharper than Aerenys' kin -- but the vodoun  queen had long ago learned that hers was not the only bloodline that coursed with magic, nor were they the only to worship Aerenys' gods.

"I am Aerenys Melonii. You might call me Mati though if you wish," she offered in return, lips quirking briefly, as the Nightwish introduced herself officially, dipping her head slowly in a strange and formal sort of bow. "Have you practiced long?" The Priestess asked curiously as she straightened, curling char-black haunches beneath her as she sat, mismatched gaze observing her fellow witch with something akin to fascination. 

The last she had been in Teekon, she had come across no witches and knew only of the covens to the northeast: Hag's Fen and the Bayou where she had studied so scrupulously for the past two years. Even if Eldritch was being modest, or was perhaps a bit inexperienced, Aerenys wanted to know everything she could about her sister of the dark arts.