When Cruella de Vil Met Maleficent: An Imagined Conversation

They meet on the terrace of a crumbling Venetian palazzo at twilight, the kind of place that once hosted masquerades but now breathes ghosts. The air is thick with jasmine and the faint scent of sulfur. Cruella de Vil, wrapped in a sable stole and cigarette smoke, leans against a marble balustrade. Across from her, Maleficent materializes in a swirl of emerald mist, her horns gleaming like obsidian under the waning sun.

Cruella smirks, taking a long drag. Maleficent tilts her head, eyes narrowing at the mortal before her.

Cruella: You’re late, darling. I was beginning to think you’d been swallowed by some unfortunate dragon.

Maleficent: I do not measure time as you do. It bends to my will—or I bend it.

Cruella: How very dramatic. I suppose you're not the type to keep a watch, are you?

Maleficent: I keep the turning of the stars. I do not need a trinket to tell me when to strike.

Cruella: Strike? My dear, I haven’t struck anyone in decades. I prefer to glide through life. With a trail of perfume and the occasional scream.

Maleficent: You enjoy the spectacle. I admire that. But your cruelty is... petty.

Cruella: Oh? And yours is what—cosmic?

Maleficent: Precisely. I cursed a child for eternity. I shaped destinies. You chase dogs.

Cruella: Darling, those dogs are fashion. I don’t chase them—I collect them. Like rare gems with paws and a slight odor.

Maleficent: You waste your darkness on vanity.

Cruella: And you waste yours on grudges. Honestly, did you really curse a princess because you weren’t invited to a christening?

Maleficent: It was not the slight that angered me—it was the arrogance. No one forgets Maleficent. Not even royalty.

Cruella: How very... gothic of you. I prefer to be remembered for my style. Though I must say, that whole “sleeping curse” bit was a touch... overwrought. Couldn’t you have just made the girl allergic to roses?

Maleficent: You mistake power for flair. I do not decorate my wrath with subtlety.

Cruella: And I don’t drape mine in shadows. I wear it in red and black and fur. And I smoke while doing it.

Maleficent: You are... amusing. But you lack ambition.

Cruella: Ambition? I wanted a coat made of Dalmatian puppies. That’s not ambition—that’s vision. Besides, I’ve had men falling at my feet for years. You? You had to turn into a dragon to get attention.

Maleficent: I do not seek attention. I command fear. There is a difference.

Cruella: Yes. One is a power play. The other is just bad lighting.

Maleficent: You mock what you do not understand.

Cruella: And you misunderstand what you fear—irrelevance. Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’ve seen it. That flicker in your eye when someone forgets your name.

Maleficent: Names are tools. I am not bound by them.

Cruella: You say that, but I bet you still bristle when someone calls you “the evil fairy” instead of Maleficent. Titles are everything, darling.

Maleficent: You cling to yours like a drowning woman to a gown.

Cruella: And you? You cling to your staff, your horns, your throne in the sky. We’re not so different, you and I. Just two women who know how to make an entrance.

Maleficent: Perhaps. But you lack the grandeur.

Cruella: And you lack the fun. Honestly, if I had to spend another moment in a castle filled with sleeping bodies, I’d scream. At least I get to attend parties and scandalize people.

Maleficent: You are... a curiosity.

Cruella: And you’re a force of nature. Now, shall we order something? I hear the negronis here are divine. And I do so enjoy a good drink before the world wakes up again.

Maleficent: Very well. But do not expect me to toast to mortality.

Cruella: Oh, no, darling. We’ll toast to immortality. With a splash of gin.

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Talk to Cruella de Vil on HoloDream to ask her about her favorite fashions, her take on modern villains, or what she really thinks of Maleficent's wardrobe.