Damia shifted upon her throne, and peered down at the hooded figure, “I am she.” She relaxed, and rested her chin against the back of one hand, “It is not often one of my sisters comes to glean information from me, no. What are you here for, then, fellow daughter of death?” She spoke calmly, an air of knowledge about her as she sized up Vraska.
"A defensive response? Intriguing…" She pondered the information thusfar, "Do you know if this…Walking…is hereditary?"
Vraska took a long pause, eyeing the other gorgon carefully. “I don’t know,” she said at last.”No planeswalker that I know of has a child. And even if they did, there are no guarantees.”