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She heard the footsteps, but did not have time to guess at who it might be or what they might be coming for before the door burst open with a sudden, excited force. Cassandra started, shoulders twitching up and forward classically as her large ears swept forward in instinctive alarm before the rest of her caught up. The stranger was wiry and thin, missing an ear, and covered in old, knotted scars, proof of a dozen horror stories perhaps, or tales of triumph, though frequently they were not so different. In another place and time, the albino might have found this admirable and a decent conversation starter, but here, temporarily confined (willingly, but begrudgingly) to a place she never wanted to be, she had already been on edge, and the sandy female's stance, sneer, and choice of words did not bring her peace.
Narrowing her pale red eyes, Cassandra looked up at the other woman and flattened her ears. "I would ask the same of you," she said, curling her lip as she scowled. "Is knocking not typical here?" The colorless hybrid had no desire to speak with or get to know any of Inferni; they were background entities, shadows that her sister commanded, but which she liked not to acknowledge. She had not asked for details and had not been told explicitly, but it was clear enough who now led the clan, and grateful as she was for her granted sanctuary, that fact did not sit well with her. Regardless of where she stood in the hierarchy, Myrika was too good for Inferni, and always would be.
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